Near Light
by novalounge
Summary: This is a sequel to 'One Way Trip', so read that first. If 'Life is Strange' was their origin story, 'One Way Trip' was a re-awakening. An introduction to new friends, hidden enemies. Warnings for the future. Early power-ups for what lies ahead. 'Near Light' is the continued adventure of Max & Chloe, picking up where 'One Way Trip' left off. Pricefield, etc.
1. Two years

**Max** leaned back into the quilted leather of the passenger seat, shifted slightly to have a better view of Chloe. Outside, it was freezing cold, brittle, dark. Inside, the vents pushed comfortably warm air as the seat heater warmed her from below. That plus the view, and Max was feeling toasty and contented. _All I need is a mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows, and my world will be complete._ She could probably go get one, be back before Chloe even knew she was gone.

Instead, she continued to admire her through sleepy eyes; Chloe's face lit softly from the pale white glow of the instrument panel. Occasional oncoming headlights flashed the blue of her eyes. In those moments, she appeared illuminated from within; almost an angel. Almost. In classical literature, angels weren't usually depicted with operational holographic body art from the deep future. The soft amber glow accentuated parts of her body in a crazy sexy haze… _Not…distracted at all…_

Chloe caught her staring. "Wanna drive, doll?"

Max fought the urge to yawn. Or close her eyes. "Only if you're tired?" It was nice to be the passenger.

"Nah. I'm okay." Chloe said. "We're only an hour out anyway."

Max nestled her hand loosely into Chloe's on the center console. "I'm glad we're doing this. There's a part of me that really misses them after two months away. And another that misses them on a completely different timescale…"

"I know…"

Max knew she did. It had only been a month and a half of calendar time since they left Seattle for LA, en route to Vegas. In this timeline, anyway. But for both of them, co-memories of their other beginning were so far in the past… Centuries. Seeing her parents again would be almost like visiting ghosts.

It felt different to Max, of course. Her memory streams were all hers. Integrated, but she felt them strongly. Uniquely. While Chloe's memories of their future life in another branch of reality were a gift from another version of herself; Max's other Chloe. Sent an impossible distance. Sent alongside so much more, still slowly revealing…

 _If OtherChloe… I still don't feel right calling her that - she was…is…my love, my heart, my life, my everything. Well, one of my everythings, anyway. I thought she was lost. Destroyed in the end…an end that…was a lie. But her reality still should have collapsed, when I jumped back… But obviously some branches become…strong enough…to continue on their own. Not overwritten. Split. Has to be. Only fucking thing that makes sense. Only way she continued. I've seen the topologies. At least…I think I have. Dreams in this branch. The cave - hole to another universe… Dreams from somewhere, anyway. Some branches collapse, reabsorb. Like gasses looping along magnetic field lines above the sun. But other branches don't. They have enough differential inertia to keep going. Our two realities are tied together now. Causal dependencies… But…no idea how to reach her. Or if I should even try?_

 _And they're both my Chloe, aren't they? Even divided into isolated branches of reality like this. If…she found a way to reach us here, that means there has to be a way to reach her wherever she is. Maybe not yet. But someday. Maybe the secrets are buried somewhere in Chloe's unfolding memories. Some instruction. Some…device?_

 _Maybe there's a way to…bring together my two loves? don't think threesome…don't think threesome… Shit. I meant the same way my older and younger selves in this timeline have blended into one unified me? Right. But that's different. I'm…different. That's an architecture thing - I was never really separate. Just…in two places at once at…different times. Two timelines, with different parts of me… Shit. I really don't have the words. Maybe Chloe can help once she gets a feel for her augments… If they can even remotely be called that anymore? Nearly ninety-thousand years? What the fuck, dude? I mean…_

Max caught herself. She'd let her mind wander wildly in her state of warm and comfortable tiredness. Too wildly.

 _I promised myself I wouldn't do this. Not yet. We'll need to understand all of it. Together. But we also need some 'us' time. Get to know our expanded selves again. And each other again. No drama. Just chill… It's why we're here, on an actual road…_

She focused on her face. Her lips. Her hand on the far side of the wheel, liquid amber glow cast into leather, behind the shadow of her arm…

Driving was a rare luxury. This time together. Max could easily have folded them from Vegas to Seattle. Or they could have taken the jet and been there in an hour and a half. But after the non-stop nonsense of the past months, and the rebirth they'd both gone through in different ways this past week, they each wanted some slow time to just hang out. No agendas, no stress, no one else. Just nice low-key hanging out together. Road trip made perfect sense. Snacks and all.

With the snow, they should have taken the Rover. But Chloe's reflexes, night vision, and focus were among the first attributes to benefit from the…alterations. Upgrades… She said she wanted to test some things out. But they both knew she just wanted to drive the Aston. In snow. Looking for any excuse to slide around corners, probably. Which was fine as far as Max was concerned. Chloe could do whatever she wanted, as long as she was by her side again.

Chloe spoke, breaking their comfortable silence. "How much should we let them know?"

Max considered. She knew they'd both been thinking independently about it. At this point in the first timeline, they were still in a semi-state of PTSD from Arcadia, while feeling their way around their budding relationship and living with Max's parents. It wasn't until the following spring that they'd move out on their own. And by the time they did, it was more than obvious they were in a serious relationship. Without them having to make a big statement about it.

Max had already spent most of her life married to Chloe. Hundreds of years. And now Chloe had copies of those memories too. So, it wasn't that either of them were nervous about coming out as a couple to Ryan and Vanessa. It was more the novelty that they existed at a point in time together where it was something they hadn't already done. Max responded. "So they should know about us, obviously. I'm not _not_ holding your hand this week. That's just dumb. We know how this goes, so it's mostly just to get it out of the way."

"Maybe we go easy on the whole 'space goddess from the future' thing though?" Chloe suggested with a grin.

Max laughed, "Says the _adorable_ cyborg girl with the glowing arm tech."

"Awww. And um… no shit dude. Like I still haven't figured out how to make this thing de-rez. It looks like my old…her…old…shit - even with the markers, this can get confusing… anyway it's _like_ the one she had over there, but it's something more I think. Hers was half interface, half art. But this one's not responding to my thoughts like it should. Not helping yet. Not gonna lie - I'm a little nervous about it. But…she knew what she was doing, right?"

"You'll figure it out, love. It's only been a few days. Baggy sleeves maybe? Or…there's always the truth?"

"Remind me how that went last timeline? 'Oh - hey mom and dad, I'm a human time machine?' 'Oh cool. No, we don't think you're bonkers - what do you want for dinner?'" Chloe laughed, remembering.

"Right, smartass. Well, to be fair, it was just photo jumps and rewinds then, which were a little more difficult to demo for an audience… If I hadn't moved during that one rewind, I'm not sure they ever would have believed me… But it's Christmas. I mean, let's keep their focus on the holiday, with us, and maybe save…all of that for another time?"

"So no mention of time travel. Check. And probably nothing about how your best friend and love of your life is built from spare pan-dimensional nano-parts barfed out of a cybernetic butterfly from the future? Shit. That sounds almost crazy when I say it out loud."

Max laughed. "Only almost."

Chloe continued. "Um. Where in the narrative to we tick the box on the inevitable 'so, you were almost eaten by a tornado, ran away from home, twice, and now you're suddenly billionaires in Vegas' bit? Assuming their house doesn't come under mechanized assault by vengeful asshats at some point while we're all eating?"

Max knew she was kidding about that last part. _They wouldn't dare. Not after Vegas. Not after Namibia. Shit. I still have their atom bomb…_ _Oops._ Max came back to the conversation. "Uh…variations of the truth maybe? Downplay it to say, a couple million, tell them you had a hidden talent… at picking stocks, I mean. Or you developed an algorithm, or…bots or something."

"Not lies… I mean, wrong century, and not related to this, but whatevs. The stock thing makes the most sense, plus its sorta true, if my name was Max… But you know they're not gonna let it go at that. They're gonna wanna know more."

"Chloe, you were always smart. You're way, _way_ more than that now. I have faith that you can navigate a simple conversation with my non-investor parents about patterns one could notice in the stock market…"

Chloe considered for a moment. "Actually… when you say it like that…"

Max snuggled into her seat a bit more, squinted. _I think her eyes might actually be glowing blue a little… That's new, right?_

* * *

 **Max** looked at the clock on the dash. It was after eleven as they pulled into the Caulfield's driveway. Wet snowflakes linked arms across the windscreen as soon as the wipers stopped. She knew she was letting herself regress a little, indulging a little more of her younger side. But she felt super warm and comfortable, and didn't want to go outside into the cold Seattle night. Until the porch light came on, and she saw her parents round the corner from the walk to the edge of the driveway.

 _Mom! Dad!_ She fought the urge to throw open her door and run to them. Join them in a giant group hug. _I've honestly missed you guys so goddamn much._ But Max wanted to wait for Chloe.

Chloe had all of OtherChloe's memories, and more - which might help buffer her emotions somewhat. But in her personal timeline, she'd only lost her own mom a couple of months ago. And she hadn't really processed any of it. Not yet. Not her fault. In the first timeline, they'd had lots of uneventful space to mourn, to come to terms with what happened. Months of late-night coffee and tears together. Years of quiet. To understand. To begin to forgive themselves…

But in this timeline, any chance at that was cut short. Events were completely altered after leaving Arcadia Bay - from her week in the hospital forward. Men with guns. Surprise teleportation. Psychic espionage. Escalating weirdness. Captivities. OtherChloe's interventions… Other worlds. They'd been through way too fucking much - individually and as a team. But honoring and mourning Joyce was one thing lost along the way.

She wanted Chloe to feel a sense of belonging and well-being here, this week, without being overt about it. It was such a small thing, but Max waited for her to walk around the back of the car before reaching to open her own door. _We should walk up together._

But Chloe opened Max's door before she had the chance. Big smile, as she offered her hand. _Of course._ Max nodded. Took it, allowed Chloe to help her up and out. They walked up the drive to her parents, arm in arm.

* * *

 **Chloe** woke up from a dream. It was about something she wasn't allowed to remember yet. Wasn't the first time.

She opened her eyes a little, groggy. Focused them. She could see clearly in the pitch black. Max's room. Max's bed. Max. An ear. Max ear! _Damn. Just out of nibble range._

Chloe was the big spoon, arm draped over Max, hand on the mattress, under her breast. Chloe softly kissed the back of her neck. Max pressed back into her, still sleeping. Something still so new about the feel of her, soft, naked, completely relaxed, skin against skin. And yet, something more familiar than any home she'd ever had. Everything Chloe had ever wanted was right here, in this moment. She didn't care whose memories these were. This was her Max.

She smiled warmly in the dark, turning over old and new memories. This house… Their first time together in both timelines was here. The first timeline was in this bed. Tickling. Wrestling. Max on top. A look, her freckles, descending into a kiss. One thing led to another. This timeline, it was in her shower, after a long day waiting for Max to come home. Nursing cuts and bruises all over her body. Max turned. A look. A kiss. One thing led to another…

Chloe only just realized that Max made the first move in both timelines.

Of course, in the first pass they were still getting to know each other. In this one, they were way past that. Off-world bouncy-castle weekends… _mind blown._ _…among other things…_

Chloe's mind wandered. Sifting through memories of another life. Another future. Hers, but…not. She couldn't help but love her too. OtherChloe. In her mind, she'd started thinking of her like a big sister. Older. Wiser. The trailblazer. Always looking out for her. But way fucking cooler than she'd ever manage to be…

She moved her head a little, feeling Max lightly against her face… Her hair, the back of her neck, the little bump on the back of her head… She breathed her in.

 _She always smells so nice. So like…Max._

She drifted back into a dream.

 _A white expanse…_

Another she wouldn't be allowed to keep. Not yet…

* * *

 **Max** woke up to the sound of sizzling, the smell of bacon. She couldn't feel Chloe behind her. Rolled halfway over. Clearly, she'd been abandoned. _Traitorous bacon-lubber._ She stretched.

The door opened, as a pajama'd Chloe walked in with paper towel flat on her hand like a serving dish. She closed the door behind her.

Max looked at her upside down. "Is that…?"

Chloe plopped down on the bed. "It is."

"…for me?" Her eyes hopeful.

"Maybe. What's it worth to ya?"

Max sat up slowly, let the sheet drop away from her.

Chloe nodded. "Okay then. Open."

Max opened her mouth, looked at Chloe sideways, unmoving.

Chloe took a warm strip of bacon, tapped it on Max's lower lip, held just out of reach of her teeth as Max tried to get it.

Max smiled, reached out with her arm and pulled Chloe in to give her a kiss. With her free hand, she snagged the bacon, popped it in her mouth. "Ha!"

"Brat! I totally would have given it to you." Chloe laughed.

Max raised her eyebrows. "Later. Promise? We should breakfast first though. Mom and dad both up?"

"Plan. And yeah. Your dad's baconing. I think your mom's in the shower maybe."

 _This is a little like waking up to a dream…_ Max pulled Chloe toward her again, gave her a bacon flavored kiss before getting up. Chloe watched, admired her quietly from the bed as Max grabbed her PJs and slid them on. _Some things never change._

* * *

 **Chloe** and Max walked out to the kitchen. Max gave her dad a hug and a kiss, stole another piece of bacon from the growing pile on the plate near the stove. She tore it in half, tossed part to Chloe before sitting next to her at the table. Table was already set. Chloe's work probably.

Vanessa joined Ryan in the kitchen, eventually poking her head out to as ask "Morning you two. French toast, or pancakes?"

Max and Chloe said "yes" at nearly the same moment, started laughing.

"Seeing them again is like a total flashback to childhood." laughed Max.

"Totally. And you're allowed to be a kid, dude. I mean, you only just turned 18. It's not like you've traveled back in time from the year 2338 or anything."

Max elbowed her. Chloe stifled giggles.

From the kitchen, Ryan asked "So Chloe - I meant to say something last night, but I was too busy feeling jealous of your car… Did you get it just because it matched your hair?"

Chloe answered, "Pretty much. Well, and the V-12 sounded ridiculous. And…Max really liked it, so it seemed like a good choice. I was also looking at a Lamborghini, but I think I'll wait til next year's models come out… They're moving to a new gearbox…"

"Right. I'd read that somewhere. Not…helping the jealousy thing. But if you ever get sick of it and decide to throw it away…"

"Mr. C - you know you're welcome to drive it any time. Just remember the handbrake…"

"…is on the wrong side. Uh. Read that somewhere too."

"Car geeks." Max rolled her eyes.

"That's 'petrol-heads' to you." Chloe smiled.

Vanessa brought out plates of French toast and pancakes. Enough to get started anyway, along with bacon, butter, toast, jams and other breakfast related noms. She rolled her eyes along with Max as Ryan joined them at the table with the pot of coffee.

They caught up on Caulfield life in Seattle as the first of the French toast vanished. Work updates. Extended family drama. Max's old friends Kristin and Fernando inquiring after her a couple of times.

Vanessa eventually bridged the topic back to them. "So Chloe, about the elephant in the room…"

Chloe and Max both looked around. Ryan smiled.

"It's beautiful, but…we have no idea what it is."

 _Oh… that elephant!_ Chloe held out her arm. "Um. Thanks. Yeah. It's…from…Japan. New type of experimental wearable tech. Should be all the rage here next year?" She nodded convincingly.

"What does it…do?"

"Mostly just glows. So far? Unfortunately, the manual is in Japanese. And I do not read that language. Spoken by Japanese people everywhere. Of which…I am not…one. So for now, it's mostly a…fashion experiment. Contrasts with the hair?"

Max face-palmed. Chloe shrugged at her with a 'what?' face.

Ryan nodded. "And the other elephant?"

"Um. We're…dating?" Max offered.

Ryan and Vanessa both chuckled. "Sweetie, we put that together before you two left for Los Angeles… We meant the _other_ other elephant…"

Chloe stepped in. Silently mouthed 'dating?' at Max. Turning back to Ryan, "You meant 'the secret'. Of how to make money in the stock market…"

Ryan nodded. "Right. _That_ elephant. You guys had maybe some gas money between you when you left for LA. Two months later, you're what, millionaires? Cars I never expected to see parked in our driveway… Just wondering if we have to keep an eye out for mobsters or bankers or people who own their own submarines?"

"Oh no - don't worry. We've got you under 24/7 protection, hover-drones, pop-up turrets in the yard, private security. You should be fine. Mostly."

Max kicked her under the table. "Chloe, you are such a dork."

"No, but seriously…I just noticed a pattern in some historical stock market data. We were able to use it to make a few predictions about where things might go next, got lucky, and…here we are. College is covered for both of us, and we're just chillin' in a temporary space in Vegas while we get our bearings. You know, _adjust to this new reality._ "

Max kicked her again under the table, soft fuzzy socks leaving no lasting damage.

* * *

 **Max** jumped back. Hit the mark really close. She remembered kicking Chloe at this point in their conversation. She knew Chloe remembered it all too - not like she could forget anything if she wanted to now… But Max needed the proof. The exact words. If she was going to rub her nose in it, anyway. She had to be very careful not to change anything. Just observe. Since this part was mostly Chloe talking anyway, it's unlikely she'd make her say something different by accident.

After a pause, Vanessa asked "Did you girls see that thing that was all over the news last week? Those weird videos from Las Vegas? What do you think that was?"

Chloe responded. Started to say something dismissive and stopped. "You know…I'm…sorry Max - I've just gotta come out and say this. Guys, your daughter is a for-real superhero. Those videos? All her. She saved nearly half a million people that day."

 _Aha! Gotcha Price!_ Max gave her the necessary scripted scowl.

"What dude? They _need_ to know. They're the only parents you have, and they have a right to be as insanely proud of you as I am. Plus, it's gonna affect them too. We're not going low profile this time. And people already know our real names - someone is gonna think to talk to them at some point. They need to understand what's really happening _before_ the spotlight hits. We know they can handle it from last time…"

Max could see their puzzled faces forming as she froze the moment.

She rewound them to exactly when she jumped in, so nothing that happened in the next couple of hours could change. Slid forward two years, tail end of Christmas dinner, 2015. She found herself back in their dining room, above B-wing of their Vegas high-rise, right at the exact moment she left. The room lights were low, soft at the edges near the glass walls, and brighter directly down onto the table. Empty plates. Forty first floor. The lights of the city skyline flashing beyond the glass. They'd moved on to dessert and after-dinner drinks.

Max rolled her eyes at Chloe. "Oh my god - you _totally_ blurted it out Chloe! From zero to 'your daughter is a for real superhero'… No context, no setup, just…boom! Out like a trout! Who does that!?"

Vanessa, Ryan and Chloe were all laughing, caught up in the absurd memory of it.

"Like a trout? Hahaha. And you just jumped back to check, didn't you? You're such a little sneak!" Chloe lifted wine to her lips, eyes sparkling at Max over the glass. This was the first time Max had seen her side by side in a while. Her hair was still blue, but with more expensive shades and layers of color. And she was wearing it closer to shoulder length now, but still kept it separated into big chunks, anime style. _Gorgeous as ever…_

"You have your memory… I have the actual timeline of events. Whatever. You know I'm right." Max lifted her own glass of sparkling water, eyeballing Chloe warily over the rim as she sipped. Squinted her eyes in an 'I'm watching you' sort of way…

"Well, I'm glad you did, Chloe. If you hadn't, well, we'd have had no idea. We've always loved and supported both of you, and it still makes me sad to think that we might have been excluded from such a weird, but massively important part of your lives."

"Dad… We _really did_ have a plan to tell you. Just…not that Christmas."

"It's true Mr. C. We talked about it on the drive up that night…"

Vanessa rested her hand on Max's. "Well, I'm just glad that you gave us a chance once Chloe said something, Maxine. Didn't _redo_ on us or anything."

 _Hehe. Aww._ "You know I love you guys. But you lived it - it's just a super weird thing to learn about your daughter over French toast."

"True." Ryan nodded. "Still not sure what side of the family…"

"I'm pretty sure it doesn't work that way, Dad. Anyway, I was totally happy to let it roll, as long as you guys didn't have a serious freak-out or anything. But I wasn't sure for a couple of hours. We had to work up to it with you in the last timeline. Had a few false starts. Didn't always go as well."

"It was pretty convincing. Not that we understood it, or do now, but we certainly couldn't deny our own eyes." Ryan said.

"First timeline was harder. I couldn't just take you to Australia in your PJs."

"The silliest part of it all - I think what shocked me the most, was that you brought the table and chairs and everything from the dining room with us. Like you expected us to casually finish our breakfast at two in the morning in that park, looking out over Sydney harbor." Vanessa laughed as Chloe and Ryan joined in.

"Still…it was a great Christmas present. We'd always wanted to go…" Vanessa took Ryan's hand.

"Aww. You guys are so cute…" Max smiled.

After a few beats, Ryan asked "Chloe, do you keep in touch with Joyce's second husband at all?"

Chloe nodded. "David? Yeah. Every few months we'll swap email or texts. He always calls on mom's birthday. He's doing really well actually. Still in Arcadia. Um, last time he got in touch, he mentioned that he was finally seeing someone. He was a little worried I'd be mad I guess. Anyway, she was a combat med-tech in the service or something, but they met at the VA. Said they were helping each other now. He sounded genuinely happy. I'm glad, and I know mom would have wanted that for him too."

Vanessa turned to Chloe, warmth in her eyes. "I just…I really wish Joyce and William could have seen the woman you've become, Chloe. They'd have been so very proud of you."

Chloe bowed her head just a little, as Max took her hand. "Thank you. I know you were all friends for a long time, and that…really means a lot coming from you guys."

Vanessa nodded. Turned to Max. "And Maxine, I shouldn't have to say - you know how proud we are. Not of the things you can do… but of what you've chosen to do with them. Both of you. It's really so incredible. And I'm so grateful that you've been such positive influences on each other's lives. You turned out to be such wonderful people. I just…wanted to say that."

Ryan nodded.

"Awww. Thanks Mom."

Chloe gave Max's hand a squeeze.

After a few moments, "So, um. Awkward silence break - who's up for presents?" asked Max, moving the party into the sitting room, near the fireplace and tree. Derailing the minor argument between her parents that would have started in another five minutes if they'd stayed at the table.

As well as they'd adjusted, it had been hard on them at times.

Especially once the media attention took off in early 2014.

* * *

 **Chloe** leaned, elbows resting on the half wall at the roof's outer edge as she looked over the city. _Quiet night._ Even in the tower below. Most people had taken time off over the holidays, but a skeleton staff kept working over the break. Those who's projects required monitoring, or were at some critical phase. Some without families. Or who didn't celebrate the holidays and didn't feel the need to take time off. Plus ops support staff, security. Not like they had an attendance policy or anything. Everyone who worked for them had full personal and professional autonomy, could come and go as fitted their own goals and team or project requirements.

Even still, they regularly hosted up to eight thousand employees in this building alone. With more than twice that number in the field, working remotely, or working out of any one of dozens of unmarked buildings around the world where they had labs, manufacturing facilities or warehouses. Or where they leased a few floors in conventional office towers under the MCCP name, or any one of dozens of subsidiaries. None of that counted their blind investments or shells.

Then there were the eight highest security locations. Off the books. Off any grid. Beyond remote. Beyond the perception or reach of potential enemies. Even people working there didn't know where they were. Or when. Impossible spaces. Half of those weren't even on earth at this point… Special projects. Ark storage. Detention. Max was the only way in or out…

 _Speaking of…_

She heard the sliding door of the central core open. One of their perimeter hummingbird drones turned, zoomed for a moment, confirming for Chloe that it was Max. Chloe used to get vertigo back when she'd first started tuning into the camera feeds, but her mind quickly adjusted. She was used to the shifts by now. Reconciling multiple points of view into one coherent mental picture; she imagined this was similar to what Sophie experienced with people. Just part of her expanded sense of the world, thanks to OtherChloe.

Max took her time strolling the length of the wing, passing the upward glow of the pool along the way. She eventually crashed slow motion style into Chloe, wrapping her arms around her from behind in a gentle, familiar resting hug.

"All tucked in?" Chloe asked over her shoulder.

Max kissed her on a patch of exposed skin. "Yeah. It's afternoon there, but I made sure they got inside before heading back."

"Bali this time?" Chloe rotated around so she was facing Max, still in the hug.

"Yeah. The place with the cool infinity pools looking out over the jungle. They really love it."

"Not many daughters help their parents live the dream of traveling the world in retirement…"

Max nodded. "Not many daughters can afford it. And not many can do it without the actual travel part."

"And not many feel better keeping them blissfully unaware, but relentlessly on the move…" Chloe added.

"I know. It's a little silly. It's been so quiet."

"They love it. All that really matters dude. You do right by them."

Max pulled back, took hold of Chloe's hands, swinging them a little side to side. "So um… you know it's a pain Christmas shopping for the girl who has everything, right?"

Chloe laughed. "Uh. Yeah." _Or impossible, more like._

"So no big deal or anything, but I kinda… it's only a small part, but… Well, here. Jim and his team have been working on this in secret for like four months…"

Max folded them to one of the highest sub-basement levels of their building. Down in the private residence garage, where Chloe kept her growing collection of cars and other oddball machines. They ranged from the classics to the exotic, with a couple of hyper-cars thrown in. And a few research prototypes she'd kept to tinker with. One of the harmless rich-girl gear-head indulgences that made Chloe surprisingly happy, once she discovered it.

Max walked her across the polished white marble floor to her silver-blue Aventador, parked in one of the wide spaces. Chloe had bought it a year earlier, but had really only taken it out a few times. 2015 had been busy.

Chloe was all ready with some smartass comment about how she already owned this car, but she could see tiny differences already. Now that she was looking for them. Lights moved forward almost a millimeter. The entire stance of the car half an inch lower. "What…did they do to her?" She felt along the edge of the left headlight cluster lens.

"Um. Okay, don't be mad, but remember how you always said you wanted some James Bond stuffs?"

Chloe turned. "Max?! You didn't…"

Max nodded, smiling.

"Fucking rocket launchers?! For reals?!" Chloe reached for the driver's door.

Max nodded. "Don't shoot them inside or anything. But yeah. Plus some other fun stuff. Autopilot, drone launcher, some sort of stealth tech, she's networked for you now, and you can even change the color to whatever you want, on the fly."

"You turned her into a _chameleon_?" Chloe squinted close at the roof panels. "Max, I can't even see the pixels!"

"When they replaced the carbon fiber skin with the new ultralight armor from Materials Research, they had the idea to bond it to a new e-ink layer. They were having so much fun, I think they got a little carried away. I hope you like it?"

"Dude. I love it! This is _so_ fucking kickass!" Chloe opened the door, jumped in.

"Yay! Okay - there's a thumb drive in the cup holder. Schematics, controls, software notes, all that junk. You should be able to connect with her directly too. Feel free to make changes or upgrades or whatever. This was just to get you started, and I wasn't sure what other gadgets you might want. You have more imagination about that kindof stuff."

Chloe hopped back out, glomped Max. "Thank you! I have no idea how you kept this hidden! Seriously dude - you so rule!"

Max laughed in a half-squeak, struggling to breathe. "I do kinda rule, don't I? Um. Air?"

Chloe looked back, changed the color to bright red, then midnight blue. "Wow. Just…"

Max regained her airways. "Heh. I haven't seen you this excited since you got your Gjallarhorn."

"After a fucking year of fucking RNJesus…you know, fuck it. This is _so_ much better!" She gave Max another kiss. "Okay, um. My turn… Can you quick hop us upstairs? My office?"

The industrial concrete chic of the garage gave way to the warm aesthetic of Chloe's office in the main residence. Chloe reluctantly let go of Max, walked back behind her desk and sat in the high-backed red leather chair. During their rebuild of Arcadia, the chair was salvaged from the wreckage of Blackwell Academy, mostly intact. Max had it restored last year, and gave it to Chloe as part of her birthday present. Chloe loved it for so many reasons.

She opened a drawer, removed a wrapped package the size of a shoebox and pushed it through the air to Max. "I wouldn't shake it…"

Max took it, sat on the edge of the desk, carefully undoing the ribbon that held the top in place. Inside was a large beat up camera, lying on its side in foam. Max stopped, looked at Chloe, eyes wide. "Is this…real?"

Chloe smiled big, nodded. "Yep. One of the only ones to come back. Verified the serial numbers with NASA and Hasselblad."

Max carefully removed it from its protective custom cutout. "Holy…shit, Chlo…" The camera was silver colored, boxy with rounded corners, a split at the midpoint between front and back, with a hinged block of the auto-winder below, and a giant lens out the front. Obviously vintage, with scratches and old tape marks and small colored stickers with the years 1982, 1992 and 1995 on one side. Embossed into the metal on the side nearest the lens were the words 'Hasselblad EL DATA CAMERA'

"I know you have a thing for analog…"

"Chloe, this… this is _beyond_ priceless. It's one of the _actual_ film cameras astronauts used on the moon in 1969! How the hell did you get it?"

"Japanese collector bought it at auction last year. I followed him. Made a bigger offer."

Max set the camera gently, carefully back into the box. "You are so _amazingly_ sweet Chloe, but…this is a legit piece of _world history_. The kind that should be in the Smithsonian or something where people can see it."

"It's yours, Max. You could donate it if you want. Promise, I wouldn't be mad or anything. Or, maybe you could better honor the camera's designers, makers and everyone who's ever touched it by continuing to use it to take photographs - of other worlds. Put the _photographs_ online where people can see them. Or…whatever. But as far as I'm concerned, there's literally no better steward of history than you… And you know it's absolutely true. I mean, Smithsonian didn't even make it past 2150 in the last timeline…"

"Chloe…"

"The real gift is making sure everything survives this time. And we'll do that too. But if you're really passionate about the idea that they should have one, the Apollo astronauts took up like three of these on each mission. Most of them were left behind to make room for moon rocks. So maybe you keep this one, and we take a quick trip to the moon and pick one up off the ground as a gift for the Smithsonian?"

Max paused for a moment, looked at the camera, back to Chloe. "That's… a really good idea, actually." Max went around the side of the desk, sat in Chloe's lap, legs over the arm of the chair, kissed her softly. "Thank you Chlo. It's a really beautiful gift. Perfect."

"I love you too Max…"


	2. New Year's

**Chloe** stood in front of the thick glass wall at one end of their spacious bedroom, using it as a pale sort of mirror while she leaned her head to one side, press-dried her hair with a thick towel. As she looked past her reflection, out to the darkness and lights of the early desert evening, she felt the city. The pent up energy. New Year's Eve. 2016 was still six hours away.

She refocused on her own reflection, naked, fresh from the shower. A little more athletic than she used to be, but still basically her. _Trapped forever in my 19-year old body. That's never gonna get old… Heh._

As casually as she'd glanced out the window, Chloe shifted her sight beyond, to other points of view. Saw her body silhouetted against the light of the room from outside, through one of her drones. Went wider. Across wavelengths. Quick-scanned all three wings of their building at once through the eyes of the other tiny drones that formed the first perimeter shell. Then she expanded outward through more distant layers, giving her a comprehensive sense of everything within a few miles.

It was like a city-wide retina. A light-field surveillance dome around them that could see inward and outward at the same time. Not through video or pictures. There were no lenses or optics in the traditional sense. Just unfocused sensors; raw information about photons themselves. Direction, scatter, polarity, wavelength, energy levels. Every drone, every angle, every point of view stitched into one simple computational virtual reality in her head.

 _Nothing out of place. Again._

She could hear Max in the bathroom behind her, brushing her teeth. Chloe called out, "Maximousse - which one of us is playing arm candy tonight? Need to figure out what to wear…"

Max replied indistinctly through toothpaste-foam-mouth "mhwy naat boeth?"

"Yeah. Fair enough." laughed Chloe. "Hard not to when we're us, right?"

Chloe heard happy sounds from Max, but couldn't make out what she was trying to say. Understood the spirit.

A distant slow wave of movement caught her attention. The Las Vegas Strip had only been closed to traffic for a few minutes, but she could see that the edges of the road were already lost as pedestrians flooded in from the sidewalks. More than three hundred thousand people were in town for the long party week. She and Max would be away from the crush of the Strip tonight, but the building energy and excitement of the crowds should add to the atmosphere regardless.

She remained absently aware of her extended vision, but pulled her focus back to her own eyes. _Need something sexy, but classy._ _…ish. Something that won't restrict mobility._ She didn't know if the last part was more for the dancing, or in case of unexpected trouble. _Or both?_ "Oh. And on that note…" Chloe crossed the room to check their analog dropbox.

It was a simple system. Just a small plain wooden box on a sideboard in their room, next to Max's guitar. A place to leave themselves notes from the future. They'd received a few since moving in a year and a half ago. Tips. Intel from their future selves. Lists of names with locations and other identifying details that had apparently taken them years in the future to track down. Detailed warnings about calamitous events elsewhere in the world. An attempted terror attack in Athens. A school shooting in LA. A cruise ship that would have gone down with all passengers in the chilly North Atlantic. More. All prevented invisibly, silently.

The box was usually empty, but they made a habit of checking it daily, just in case. Chloe lifted the lid.

Max emerged from the bathroom on her way to their closet, wrapped in a fluffy towel, hair still damp. Her hair was a little shorter in the back than the front, layered. Lowest tips on her left side dipped in blue, past her chin. Subtle changes over the years.

Chloe lifted out a small notecard with one line. Held it up for Max.

"Ruh-roh. What's it say?" Max headed over.

Brow furrowed, Chloe read out, " _Don't hurt them. They're in trouble too._ "

"That's…vague."

"Your writing. Details would have been nice, dude."

"Unless us knowing the details would have changed something?" Max looked puzzled.

Chloe shook her head. "Fucking time travel. Aren't we trying to change everything anyway? Kinda the point."

Max looked closer, pointed at a splotch in the lower left corner of the card. "Wait…Chloe is that…is that blood?"

Chloe scratched the surface, smelled. Licked the splotch.

"Ew!"

"Ketchup."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"So I jumped back, made a snack, _then_ left us a super-vague warning note?"

"I'm not gonna say that first part totally sounds like something you'd do, but…that totally sounds like something you'd do."

"Huh. Yeah."

"Moving on…"

"I guess we should be prepared for…something then?"

"No idea when. Is this for tonight? Tomorrow? Next spring? You didn't put an event date. Or your origin date - you _always_ put your origin date." Chloe was a little frustrated. Information without context often created more problems than it solved. They both knew better. Which meant leaving it off had to be intentional. Which said 'complicated'. _Shit._

Max leaned against the sideboard, jumped up a little to sit next to Chloe. Her bare ankles crossed, legs swinging slightly below. "So we don't even know _when_ I came from when I left this? Maybe I was just in a hurry and assumed we'd sort it out?" She knew better, but had to say it so they could reject it.

"Maybe you jumped back from an alternate hell-future where tomatoes and tomato products were extinct?"

"Shut up, Chloe. You're such a dork."

"Okay, but for real, Max - I mean, how the fuck could you possibly be in a hurry?"

"Right." Max shook her head.

"What could cause you to hide when you came from?"

"Chlo, even if the date didn't matter, I'd still drop it in - just so we wouldn't wonder like we are now."

"So…that means you definitely left it off on purpose."

"It's part of the message." Max suggested.

"Why? What would you mean?"

"Something with hidden ripples? A longer term impact?" Max was thinking out loud.

"Doesn't make sense. You always leave way more detail than we need. Why would this one be different?"

"It's gotta be significant. And us knowing… oh. shit. yeah. Chloe…precogs. Duh." Max let out a breath. _Solved. Probably?_

"A probe? Fuckin' morons. Like they didn't get shut down hard enough last time. Um. If we change something now, they'll still know the change is coming, won't they?"

Max shrugged. "Vagueing it up in the note might be enough to create uncertainty, hide the effect of the tip from them until it's too late - since we don't _really_ know anything yet. We don't have any clear intentions to project forward."

"They know they can't throw telepaths at us anymore. If they still have any left working for them. And you've been sparring with friendly whisperers… so…I guess precogs behind the scenes makes the most sense. Like maybe you intended to give us enough to change the outcome, but not enough to tip them off that whatever they have planned won't work?"

"That would mean it's important to us in the future that their thing stays in motion. Huh. Maybe this gets us new leads or something? But when?"

"Timing is also a message. Gotta be tonight, Max. New Year's Eve. Celebs. Tons of cameras though. We're all gonna be at Tracey's thing?"

Max agreed. "Probably not coincidence. Would have been tomorrow otherwise."

Chloe asked, "Give John a heads-up? Security?"

"It's their night. We shouldn't worry them. And if it really is a precog driven thing, the fewer people who know the better. Keep the incidental changes small… We still don't know for sure what the message itself means. ' _Don't hurt them. They're in trouble too._ ' So…there's someone we interact with? Someone new? Who are they? Why would we hurt them?"

"We're not hunting, so maybe they get attacky? Get hurt during our self-defense? Or others-defense?"

"Maybe. ' _They're in trouble too_.' The words are really specific. Means more than one group of people in trouble. That sounds like there are people beyond these people we should be helping, maybe?" Max flipped the card over to see if there was more on the back. Blank.

"Fuckin' vague, dude."

"Well, all we really said was not to hurt them. So obviously everything else came out okay. Except…we hurt them last time. Which was enough to create a problem later I guess. Otherwise I would have written 'stop them' or 'save them' with a fuck-ton more detail I think. Obviously not a real threat to us, but something we should deal with differently than we would without the advice."

"But why did you leave us a note at all? Why pass this off to now-us? Why didn't you just rewind if something didn't go right? Or jump back and change it directly?"

"Maybe the bad didn't show up til later? Maybe a jump would have changed other things too? Or too many witnesses or cameras for whatever happened? Mystery."

"Complicated you mean. On the bright side, this is simplifying my wardrobe choices for tonight." Chloe moved away from the table, turned toward Max, hand out.

Max smiled as she took it, hopped down and followed. "Weren't you complaining a week ago that it's been too quiet?"

Chloe led them into their over-large walk in closet. Lights came on automatically. "Yeah, but I was mostly kidding. I like quiet. There's less screaming when it's quiet. Right there in the definition." Chloe pulled a simple blue cocktail dress off the rack for Max, held it up to her.

Max batted her eyes, tilted her head in a simple pose.

"If we're gonna play this right, we can't worry about it. Can't change too much. If anything happens, we'll just keep the note in mind and see where it takes us. It'll be fun, right?" Max reached down to grab her white high-top sneakers. All about balance.

* * *

 **Max** ordered a drink for Chloe, and a refresh of her own sparkling water. Bubbles made everything more festive. She was on alert, but not on edge. More curious than anything. They had a mystery. Or…something. Unexpected small adventures were a nice distraction. As long as they stayed small…

The bartender handed her back two glasses. She nodded a thank you, but his attention was already on the next guest. She moved back to where she'd left Chloe, but she wasn't there. Max looked around the room, went up on her toes, wishing for half a second that she was just a little taller.

The gallery atrium was huge. Ceiling at least eight stories up, front wall around the entrance was all curved metal and glass, with catwalks and suspended lights crisscrossing the volume above. Like everything in Vegas, it was overbuilt. A cylindrical space as wide as a soccer field. Escalators curved up the walls along each side. A massive floating glass staircase rose from the middle of the room, ending halfway up the back wall. Each gallery floor level around the perimeter was open to the atrium, with low walls for safety. The gallery proper stretched past the openings into the depths of adjoining buildings on three sides, giving the appearance of alternating bands of light and dark climbing the walls of the atrium.

This space was set up as the most public and grown-uppy section for tonight. A string quartet played in front of an acoustic lens on a slightly raised platform to one side, filling the atrium with beautiful sounds. Multiple bars flowed around the perimeter. Large round tables and chairs filled the room on three sides of the glass stairs, with standing tables in the spaces between. Low sofas with coffee tables hunkered in sunken casual areas of the floor, as artworks, plants and sculptures intermingled with people. Lighting was bright and cheerful, fading with elevation. They'd be able to see the fireworks from anywhere inside through the glass.

It was early, only 10pm, but the tables and bars were full. Charity gala, silent auction. Max had seen a few actors and actresses, musicians among the crowd. At least one congressperson she'd met before. Families with older children. Local wealth and civic leaders. The red carpet and sponsored logo wall outside flashed with each new arrival. A number of photographers mingled with the crowds, snapping shots inside as well. And a local TV station sent two camera guys to get b-roll and cutaway streams for their coverage of celebrations across the city in the lead-up to midnight. John had given them a heads-up about that, just in case.

Chloe wanted to explore the less grownup sections since they'd arrived. Three large rooms had been converted into themed party spaces, one on each side at ground level, behind multiple sets of doors. One was set up as a 90's rave. Black-lights, glow-sticks, DJs with headlamps pushing out thumping old school electronica. Another had a few live bands scheduled, but Max wasn't familiar with them. The third was a more standard modern dance club vibe. A Russian ice-bar version the 90's rave room, updated for 2016. All glowing blue translucence and pulsing dance music. Soundproofing mostly kept the spaces separate.

But Chloe wouldn't have left the atrium without her. Especially not when they were meeting friends.

Scanning the crowd again, Max finally caught a flash of color between moving bodies, halfway to the floating stairs. Blue. White. Amber. _There you are. Never where I leave you, of course. Always on the move…_

Max paused before heading over, gazing at her from a distance. Just for a moment. Still. The strings played. She could see Chloe leaning casually against a table, actively engaged in conversation with an orbit of new people. A few leaned back to take selfies with her. Chloe was always the more visible of the two of them. Tended to stand out. Draw small crowds. Which was fine with Max. She was all about team Chloe tonight.

Max could play roles when needed, but preferred the option to blend in. They were both reclusive when it came to press, but Chloe seemed genuinely pleased with their weird sort of minor celebrity out in public like this. Max recognized it as inevitable, without feeling any particular way about it. Familiar. Necessary. Neither good nor bad. Same as their last hundred years before her jump back.

The drinks felt cold her hands. Fighting the brief chill, she playfully imagined for a second that she was here alone, had never met Chloe before tonight. Standing in this room full of energetic, interesting, shiny new people, she knew she'd have been drawn right into Chloe's orbit with the rest of them. Like gravity. Falling easily.

 _Doesn't matter where you wander off to. You know I'll always find you…_

For her part, Chloe was rocking a long white strapless neoprene dress, slit at the front midway down her left thigh. Form-fitting. Blue edge accents matching her hair. Shoulders and arms bare. Aside from her more permanent adornments. Max loved her easy laugh. The way her eyes lit up when she was excited about something. Noticed the white combat boots under her dress, because of course. She was still Chloe…

In some sense, she felt more familiar to Max with each passing day. She could see small flashes of her first Chloe, as she was nearer to the end. Like tonight. Maybe it was just her memories asserting themselves. Or perhaps the two of them were more connected than she'd realized.

Time enough. Max gently excused her way through the crowd. More than a few people recognized her, graciously made room. She reached Chloe. Handed her a glass, catching the tail end of some joke or another. Chloe switched hands, taking Max's without looking, leaned into her in their old familiar way.

"…and that's why you never pee underwater in an Amazonian river…" Chloe laughed, while her orbiting fans shared a mixture of laughter and uncomfortable wincing. Max spied more than a few knees pressed firmly together. _The myth of the candiru, no doubt,_ Max thought, rolling her eyes at Chloe.

She leaned close, whispered, "You ran off. Always leaving, you are, young Price."

Chloe smiled mischievously, whispered back, "What? I had my eyes on you the whole time. Saw you watching. Tell me later what you were thinking about, k? And did I mention you look _really_ cute? Chucks were the right call."

"Suck up. You have to tell me I look cute. You dressed me. And I know you do this on purpose. You just like watching me look for you. Ever since nap-time hide and seek."

"I miss nap time. Like, a lot. And…guilty…" Chloe was about to whisper something more when they heard the over-loud fake-drunk voice behind them.

"Excuse me…I'm looking for Fortune's Fastest Rising Stars of 2015?"

In her best fake condescending voice, Chloe spoke without turning. "You know stars don't rise, right?"

"But Fastest _Falling_ Stars sounds like something bad." A chuckle.

"Those are meteorites. Not stars." Impatient disdain dripping from her voice.

Sadvoice. "My bad."

"Besides, as I recall it, the headlines said 'Fastest Rising _Super_ stars'… Get your shit square, Michaels."

" _Really_ my bad then… Wow. I…I should just go."

Chloe finally turned, tried to keep a straight face. "Oh, hey John." She looked first at him and then back to the woman next to him, eyebrows arched. "Uh. Damn, brah. Does your girlfriend know you kidnapped some random hottie for tonight?"

John looked at his date, back to Chloe, said, "Shhhh."

She was wearing an elegant Victorian-inspired knee-length dress with tight red and black textured patterns on the corset, low cut, contrasting black lace billowing up from behind her shoulders and back. Bare legs, heeled booties. Delicate black lace gloves ending at the wrist. Dark burgundy hair done up, chin-length strands sweeping to the sides, dropping, framing her face. Pale skin. Intelligent, playful brown eyes, full lips. Looking every bit the young trust-fund socialite she actually was.

Max turned, eyes smiling, "Hey John. Hi Trace! This is a really lovely party."

Tracey responded. "Max, you look darling. Bring it in." She leaned in, kissed Max once on each cheek in her terribly charming British way. "And he knows I'd kill him, Chloe." she laughed, repeating kisses.

John gave them each a hug as well. "We've been practicing some advanced mingling techniques tonight. Saw a few other friends up front, if you're at all into that sort of thing?"

Max & Chloe excused themselves from Chloe's orbital pod, motioned for John and Tracey to lead the way.

* * *

 **Tracey** rested her elbow on the table, chin on her hand. Tired, she'd had at least one drink too many to still feel completely sober, but not enough to show it. She hoped, anyway. She leaned her head, read John's watch beside her. 11:15. This feeling would wear off in a half hour or so. Her other hand rested comfortably on his thigh, under the table.

Rather than sit at one large table like normal people, they'd jammed together a few of the standing tables, liberated some barstools and set up a huddle to the right, midway between the entrance and the staircase. With Tracey sitting still for once, the wait staff were extra attentive.

"How long have you been awake, Tracey?" asked Sophie with a look of concern.

"Too long, dear." she replied. John had mentioned her before. Sophie…Martin was it? Worked in HR or something at his company. _Have to do a better job committing John's friends to memory…_ Tonight was the first time they'd met. Around Tracey's age, she spoke with a slight accent; French Canadian maybe. She seemed friendly, with bright inquisitive eyes. The kind that probably didn't miss a thing.

Tracey had been here since last night, coordinating with the event production company, caterers, other fundraising committee members, making sure everything was set up, navigating inevitable last minute problems. This late in the evening, the auction and raffles and museum updates were long done. Everything was on rails for the dancing and cocktails and final countdown. She'd made her obligatory rounds over the course of hours, spent time with everyone she needed to. Now it was time to kick off her heels. Metaphorically. She'd never actually, of course… _can you imagine?_

On the other side of John, Tyrell Williams. He'd been out with them as much as anyone. Old friend of John's. Different girl each time, but Tracey wasn't a prude about such things. Tonight, he was stag, but probably not for long. More than a few women had been eyeing him, and she was sure someone would make a move before midnight. If she and John hadn't been together…

Then there was John. She smiled to herself, remembering their almost-not beginning. Coffee shop on the way to work for both of them. She wasn't impressed with him the first time they met. Or the second. At all. He was attractive. Charming. But that hadn't worked out so well for her in the past. And her mind was in another place anyway. But he was persistent in a relaxed way, and eventually grew on her. _Wore her down_ , as he liked to joke when telling the story. They were in a good place now. Not too fast, not too slow. Obviously going somewhere, but there wasn't any uncomfortable pressure about it. Things were mostly easy with him. Low drama, high fun factor.

Unlike her, he rarely talked about himself or his work though. Some things like that bothered her. Not so much the odd hours he kept. Her own travel could be that way. It was the secrecy. About his past in the military, the work he'd done as an advisor or…whatever, and his current role as a senior executive with MCCP. It all made perfect sense on the face of it - and made him seem a little more mysterious and interesting in the beginning. But after all this time, the mystery wasn't as interesting. She still didn't know much beyond those basic facts. No idea what a normal day at work was like for him. It wasn't that she really needed the information, it was more about what it represented. A part of his life that she knew she'd never have access to. Locked doors. A limit to voluntary sharing. She was worried it might become more important to her in time, and could limit their relationship. Wasn't sure yet.

Sometimes he'd talk about them though. Max. Chloe. She'd gotten used to the blanket admiration in his voice when he did, but she still didn't entirely see it herself. Didn't see them in the same way.

They were an odd thing. Across the table from her. John's bosses. Seemed so young, just normal American girls, all smiles and energy. Cute, but…ordinary in a way. The room was full of girls just like them. At least most of the new-money tech billionaires over in Silicon Valley had the good sense to come out of proper schools… You could see the toil along the way. But these girls were just art school refugees from a shabby, small town upbringing, no higher-education backgrounds or aspirations to speak of, and no family connections anywhere important.

She knew that was deceptive. Reductionist. And completely unfair of her - she was self-aware enough to recognize her own inherited biases. And she really did adore them both. They'd all been out together several times in the six months she and John had been more than just coffee. She'd known of them by profile and reputation before that of course. They were _something_ , even if they didn't totally make sense to her. But she still had the thoughts she had, even if they were wrong-minded.

She'd grown up in an environment of real wealth and power. Old money. In spite of her privileged upbringing, or perhaps because of it, she'd had to work extra hard for everything she'd accomplished. Years of serious study, a life of schooling, more years of university, continued studies abroad… Sacrifices. Under a family microscope the whole time. Nothing was ever just about her. Or nearly good enough. Coming to work in the US was as much temporary escape as opportunity.

Chloe and Max seem to have skipped all of that. Just 'arrived' at the destination without all the necessary preparatory work at the beginning, or the dues-paying shite bits of the middle. No climb. Hardly seemed fair. They didn't deserve any of this. Not really. Hadn't been through any sort of meaningful struggle in their young lives.

Yet here they were. Accomplished. Important. Touted as the youngest, fastest self-made billionaires. Grounded. No evidence of the behavioral implosions that often accompanied sudden wealth. High marks for charitable works. Even the Economist had done a few pieces on the implications of some of their clean water and energy designs. She knew from John that they rarely gave interviews. Companies were privately held, and insiders weren't dishing any dirt on them. Nearly all of the stories she'd read were light on details as a result…

Which left plenty of white space for speculation. They'd developed a bit of a cult following online, apparently. Not counting the various ridiculous conspiracy sites she came across when she first cyber-stalked John. She was reasonably sure they weren't Nikola Tesla's grandnieces. Or alien space wizards from the future.

But on the more reasonable, non-tin-foil parts of the net, they were held up as all manner of example by a wide variety of constituencies, without their knowledge or participation. They were young. They were women. They were openly together as a couple. And they behaved as though none of that should matter to anyone at all, including themselves. Shot through the glass ceiling and left the atmosphere entirely, seemingly under their own power.

Didn't seem to be any sign of slowing down, either. Continued entrepreneurial successes in a variety of unrelated fields. Hired the best and brightest minds, contributing to advancements in pure science while showcasing fantastic inventions that seemed fit for an unrealistically optimistic vision of the future. Reputation for focusing on doing good, and not particularly mercenary when it came to money, in spite of their obvious financial success. And notable for breaking nearly every convention for how business should work, along with every expectation or limit placed on them by others. Baffling depth, given their shallow backgrounds.

Their reality far outpaced the limitations that should have been placed on them by their poor history. Or she was missing something. Maybe everyone was?

Or maybe it was more about her than them. A bit of ugly inebriated jealousy.

She was buzzed and overtired, after all.

* * *

 **Sophie** was enjoying herself. So many interesting stories and perspectives surrounding her. She was learning a lot. Minds with sophisticated knowledge and appreciation of history, art, literature, music… Perspectives that mirrored some of her own thoughts lately. About belief systems, how societies develop, where they fall.

The songs in their heads alone could keep her entertained for years though. Never-mind the conversations, the debates, the images of artifacts and events and mental reconstructions of entire cultures. And of course, as always, there was anger at a spouse looking at a stranger, worries over taxes, questions about life choices and diet and did he drink too much and all the usual fleeting thoughts people had… Present, but attenuated, as she focused on the more interesting themes.

She was only partially listening to the conversations around her own table.

Max thought to Sophie, _Overheard you two talking just now. But how is Tracey really?_ _She seems a little sad..._

 _She's okay. Tired, but happy._ Sophie lied through her link. Not in the capital L sort of lie, but in the tiniest sense. People were entitled to their own musings. She couldn't give Tracey privacy, but she could lend discretion. Her thoughts of the moment were drifting toward petty, but mildly so. Harmless. The kind of thoughts everyone has about others from time to time. It wouldn't help anyone for Sophie to share them like rumors. She kept most everyone's confidence - especially when they didn't know they weren't alone in their own heads.

Max laughed with Chloe at something Tyrell said about John, but Sophie didn't catch it. They were full of smiles. John was interrupting her now as well. She nodded, tapped Chloe on her knee under the table. She joined the link without any outward sign. _John wanted to talk to you guys privately for a moment._

She actually had to get their attention to connect with their minds now. Chloe's comprehensive bio-alterations had made her progressively harder to read uninvited. Chloe could choose now. Most of the time, anyway. Every once in a while, Sophie caught fragments of Chloe's own distributed network of links. Familiar and utterly alien at the same time. Colder. Vast.

Max, meanwhile, existed in a semi-permanent state of unconscious micro-jumps. Not enough that she or anyone else would notice. Picoseconds forward or back every few seconds. Enough to offset wave sync, break electrical resonance. Made reading her next to impossible. Both were using defensive measures, trained with Sophie's help, among others. But she was slightly annoyed to realize they hadn't been online with her already. They knew she'd always keep them shielded when she was around.

 _Hey. Thanks Sophie. Guys, sorry to bug, but what's the deal with next Monday? Are we still on, or postponed?_ John asked.

Chloe responded, _Dude - it's less than an hour to 2016, you're here with friends and drinks and a table full of unidentifiable but expensively tiny food - and your gorgeous girlfriend, who seems to still like you, for…reasons I guess - and you're thinking about work stuff? Don't make me make us do shots again, Michaels…_

 _No… God no. Uh. It was up in the air, is all. Trying to figure out if I can safely come back late Sunday night, or if I'll need sleep for Monday._

 _If you're taking this weekend away with Trace, you should totally come back late on Sunday. We'd postpone for that._ thought Max.

 _Not what I meant…_

 _It's what I meant though. For reals._ Max sidetracked, as a shy young girl, maybe 9 years old, came up to her, pulled on her dress and asked quietly for her autograph. She gave the girl a warm smile, asked her name.

Chloe jumped in. _Seriously though. Priorities, man. Take the weekend. Do your girlfriend. XD Our thing can wait._

John laughed. _Nice emoji. Okay. Thanks Chloe. Just didn't want to leave anyone in a bad place._

 _I don't emoji._

Max returned. Mentally rolled her eyes at Chloe's rote protestation. _Sorry - I…never get used to that. Still weird when they come up. Even weirder when they come to me and not Chloe…_

Sophie was confused for a second, then remembered they didn't see any of it themselves. _You shouldn't be surprised Max. I see this every day around you. Maybe they don't come up always, but you must have some idea of what you symbolize for people who need that? People have their thoughts about you both. (This sounds like our very first conversation again)…_

 _You think it's weird now?_ John thought, looking around the room. _Can you imagine what it would be like if any of them knew what you could really do? Any of the things we've done for people behind the scenes?_

Chloe laughed, _No shit - it's hard enough being the resident celebrity billionaire mad scientist humanitarian futurist body-hacker in every room… Throw in time travel and…_

Sophie paused for a moment, interjected. _If I might be serious for a second? I think this is an important point. I've been thinking it over for a while. Invoking link rules, if you'd indulge a capsule of thought before the new year?_

All three nodded, giving Sophie the floor. It would only last a few seconds of real time. She didn't do this often, and tried to be thoughtful when she did. She always brought a different perspective to topics they weren't thinking about. Benefit of listening to the hive. So they always listened, took her seriously. Even if they didn't necessarily agree.

 _Okay - you two know better than any of us - humanity…is at a crossroads. Survival…base survival…is important first. It's one thing. Are we working just to save numbers though? To advance technological civilization? For what purpose? Lives preserved aren't only in a state of remaining alive - they're participants in a rich weave of memories and intentions, histories and futures. Families. Communities. Societies. Children that would otherwise be orphaned, or never exist at all. Continuity of interconnections, enrichment of others, actions and aspirations and dreams that things will be better for those who come next._

 _People can be much more when they believe that they matter. When they have a purpose for themselves. When they're less ruled by their fears and insecurities. Love. One positive push ripples out._

 _'They' know this too. And for the future you experienced to come, 'they' need to push out the opposite. We've seen some evidence already…_

 _Remember that people are the ones who make the future with every breath, each of them. You can try to guide, influence, protect, but ultimately, the future is in their hands, not yours. I see horrible thoughts around me every day. But I see much more beauty. Potential. What they wish for, quietly, to themselves. You don't see them as I do._

 _And if I can be honest, you all underestimate them. In the same way you underestimate yourselves. Saving people is worthwhile by itself, of course. Inspiring them begins to move beyond that. So does giving them reason to hope at any scale. And I think that might be what you're starting to feel from some of them, like that girl just now. A sort of gratitude in a way. You think you don't deserve it because the job you set for yourselves isn't finished. You think it's gratitude for an invention or act of charity or helping people in general. But I see it in them. It's much more personal and basic. It's gratitude for thinking enough of them to simply care at all. For believing that they're worth helping. For maybe taking away a little bit of their fear._

 _But you're still an enigma to nearly everyone who's not an unaffiliated talent or an employee. Both of you. You keep distant. You express yourselves through your public actions though companies, but keep who and what you are separated, hidden away. Not just your capabilities, but your personalities. Chemistry. Yes, Chloe and her tech were out in the last loop as a natural development of inventing them over time, and she's on track to be public with that here at a faster pace - but your abilities were still hidden from most, Max._

 _You think it's the more humble path. You also think you're protecting yourselves, but your enemies already know who you are. You think you're protecting society, but you know they're in far greater trouble without you. You think you're protecting talents, but you're already literally protecting talents, and now their families. You want to change everything so everything stays the same. Look, it's a path, but it's maybe not the most effective path._

 _You know I understand minds. There's a limit to how much people can relate to you, kept apart like this. Which in turn limits those personal connections they might develop or feel. The ones that matter, for them. Which will keep our collective efforts to more of a numbers game, and less of what it should really be._

 _You still believe this is a fight about your powers and knowledge versus their dark forces and events in time. Along with infrastructure, utility, economics, direct aid, and preventive force. You're partially right. But power comes in many forms. And knowledge isn't everything._

 _You joke between you that you have the powers of gods. But the real powers of gods, the best ones anyway, have always been small scale. Indirect. Manifested in people's hearts, in moments of question or need. In moments of ethical quandary. Or when all hope is lost, and they find it impossible to stand on their own anymore. Faith that someone is with them. That they're not truly alone._

 _Max, in my opinion, in more than five hundred years, the single most powerful thing you've ever done was talking your friend Kate off of a rooftop. As barely more than a child. No powers. No tricks. Just…pure love. You reached out to her at a moment when she needed someone most, and showed her friendship and belief and hope. That was it. And it was enough. You saved her life, but you also helped her propel her own life forward, with greater meaning. And look where she is now. How many people she's doing the same for every day. And how many of them will go on to be there for others? One kind act ripples._

 _Chaotic good… That's you guys._

 _Look, knowing that you have these mind-bending capabilities will create fear among some in the general public, at least for a while. 'They' will try to exploit that if they can. It would complicate all of our lives and invite a new kind of scrutiny, maybe shake the bad-guy rug a bit - but you know there's nothing on earth that can really hurt you now. You can outlast any of that. Or ignore it._

 _People might be afraid when they learn you exist. But what if people also knew for certain that nuclear war could never, ever happen on earth? If they knew that governments, the UN, global relief organizations now have lists of every natural disaster for the next few hundred years? All because of you two?_

 _I think to know the truth about what you've done, what your existence promises for all of us, would remove a great deal of the daily existential fear from so many more people. Sharing who you are and what you dream for all of us would let each person feel that someone really is on their side, looking out for them. That tomorrow might be brighter. Believe that they might matter in those moments when they need it most._

 _I'm not saying that you should try to act like gods, or underpants superheroes. You're already both in your actions, if you admit it or not. I'm suggesting you consider simply being open about it. And once they know you like we do, I think it will help._

 _It worked with your employees. They believe hard. And together, you're not just bringing hope. You're bringing reality. Not promises. Actions. Change. And so soon. A real force of what, a few tens of thousands of people working on the hardest problems?_

 _And openness also worked with the unaffiliated talents. A few thousand worldwide, most of them wanted you both dead in the beginning. We've had these conversations. We've been transparent with them every step of the way - at your request. And the talents, they've all watched you closely. You stood up to 'them'. No one has done that and lived. Not only did you walk away whole, you did so decisively, came out stronger, and you've taken on a whole new counter-purpose since. I mean, you're literally trying to save the world. Their world. For them. Not asking a thing in return._

 _And then, even after all the threats made against you by the majority, you opened your arms, your city, your protection to talents everywhere. And their families. I mean, my god, I don't think you really appreciate this yet Max. You and Chloe, what you've done - what you're doing - you guys are fucking legend. They don't just accept you now. They look up to you. Love you, even. You behave in a way that honors their trust. And as a result, you have a small but loyal army of weird standing right behind you. And you don't even realize it._

 _With talents and your own staff, your goals are their goals now. They know the consequences of inaction. They'll help however they can, because the vision is out in the open with all them, and it's obviously right and just and good. And together, even with that small number of people, we have a chance to change the fate of the world. You've done this. With just the truth. You helped them find a reason to find the inner-hero inside them._

 _Now imagine that kind of magnetic alignment on a global scale._

 _You ended up there in the last timeline, but with a much smaller population, and only after centuries of devastating global tragedies. Not everyone will jump aboard. But if even one percent of the world's population feels something because of this, you will have gone from thirty thousand to what, seventy million? And I bet that percentage would be a magnitude higher._

 _Max, Chloe - if you take a chance…trust them enough to let them know you as we do, it might help people everywhere find their own calls to action. Another kind of role model. And at the very least, a mass scale reduction of the fear that drives so much that we're trying to stop. Give them a reason to seek more inside themselves. Something to live up to. A reason to want to become better people - and the faith to believe that they could. I think that's the part that will be so amazing. For them to also see who they could be. What they might achieve. Without fear. Without limits._

 _It would open a new front in this war for the future. Maybe the only one that matters, long term. Are you trying to simply preserve billions of people for the next three hundred years? Or do you want to help them become their most amazing, best selves too? Help catalyze a societal self-actualization that shapes the next hundred thousand years, or beyond?_

 _It always comes back to chaos with you two. But…your real power might not be your ability to fight bad things across time. It might lie in helping everyone else to find their own butterfly wings. It's a real force multiplier. Once people see the impossible, they're more likely to find the courage to achieve things they once thought were impossible._

 _I…believe this with all my heart - if you do this right, you won't have to save anyone at all. They'll do it themselves._

 _I just…it's been in my mind lately and I wanted to share all of that. I'm sorry if it was too much or disorganized._

Max, Chloe and John had all gone quiet. She knew it was a lot to take in, and they'd have to take time to process everything. It had only been a few seconds, after all. Tyrell and Tracey both noticed the air go out of the table though. Sophie gave them all a short mental kick to bring them back to the present.

 _Um, thanks Sophie. As always. It's similar to something I've been thinking about as well, but more from a mechanical standpoint._ Chloe thought.

Max was less comfortable with the negative implications or potential fallout, and had already decided once not to go public with her abilities. Years ago in Los Angeles. Without doing so, the warnings about the future wouldn't be credible. But Sophie knew things could change. Max was more her younger self then. And it would come back in future discussions among them, so she didn't push. Wouldn't ever push.

Max turned to John. _And to wrap on our earlier conversation quickly, take your time Sunday. We're cool. Now kiss her, you idiot. Distract her. Quick!_

Chloe leaned in and gave Max a kiss on the cheek.

 _Wrong idiot. Also, my lips are on the front of my head._

John leaned in to give Tracey a quick kiss.

One of the roaming photographers snapped them with a flash.

"Can it be time for pictures?" Tracey asked in an overly enthusiastic attempt to liven the group up.

* * *

 **Chloe** was one step up from Max, on a level with John and Tyrell. Tallest in the back. Tracey and Sophie were in front with Max. Laughing. Making faces. After a quick count, the photographer snapped three pictures.

Tracey cleared the stairs, took one with John. Then scooted Max & Chloe up for a shot together. The little girl who asked for Max's autograph earlier came back and asked if she could be in a picture with Max and Chloe. They sat down on the steps, with her sandwiched between them. She beamed with happiness as the photographer clicked away.

After taking solo shots with Sophie and Max, Tracey grabbed Chloe and pulled her up half a flight of stairs. Chloe on the left, Tracey on her right. It was fifteen minutes to midnight. Last picture.

The photographer took the shot.

Chloe saw the change in his expression before he started to fall. He just…went blank. She heard the crack from the doorway a fraction of a second later. Then a second. She could feel Tracey buckle, start to fall back. Saw the blood from her lower leg out of the corner of her eye.

Sophie yelled a verbal warning, too late. They should have stayed in the link. _Fuck. We knew this was coming too. Might be a rewind coming up in a sec._

A third crack. Glass chips flew behind her. _Or…not._

The front entrance. A man in a grey hoodie, AK variant.

Two other men running in behind him.

High capacity dual-drum magazines.

Body armor under the hoodies.

Looking more like bangers than professional anythings…

People near the entrance dropped, scattered, taking cover. Others further inside were less reactive. Probably assumed they were early fireworks. They couldn't see the men by the door.

As they ran in, one of the men called out Chloe's name to the others.

John was halfway to turning. She pushed.

All three fired at her.

* * *

 **John** heard the first shot, then the second.

Looked to the door, identified the targets.

Noticed the bulk of plates beneath.

Like Tyrell, his sidearm was already out of its holster.

 _Headshots then._

He felt Sophie's link, saw Tracey falling behind him through Sophie's eyes.

 _Change of plans._

As he turned to run toward her, he heard Max's inner voice telling them not to fire on the men.

Felt himself lifted and thrown sideways.

* * *

 **Max** was focused on the three gunmen. Intent on disarming and disabling them without causing them harm. Back to the note they'd gotten earlier. And doing so while minimizing any danger to others in the room. Hopefully without being noticed or creating a full blown magic show for the TV news cameras. She knew they were idle for a few more minutes upstairs, but any good cameraperson would be picking one up with the first loud bang. _Complicated indeed._

She was willing to let this attack spool out at least once so she could see the patterns of movement, pick out the best approach solving the problem before rewinding. She saw Tracey go down through Sophie's link. Felt John turn.

Tyrell stood down, trusting her, moved instead to shield Sophie with his body.

She heard Chloe's voice accelerated in time in her head. _Too many live cameras. Sit tight. I've got this one, Max._ Chloe dropped to one knee, left forearm parallel to the glass steps, placing herself between a folded Tracey and the gunmen. She'd already given John a hard telekinetic push sideways, away from the stairs and the line of likely fire. She turned her head toward them. Max knew Chloe was already running face recognition at HQ, and probably tracing their movements backward over the past week…

All three of the men let loose, weapon muzzles erupting in fire.

 _At least they're aiming for Chloe. Oh. And…Tracey. And everyone behind them and the stairs. Aw, man…_

Before the first of the bullets could reach her, the length of Chloe's left arm exploded into blinding light, throwing the entire atrium into flickering brilliance and harsh shadows. The plasma barrier extended outward from her holo-projection like an angry shield. Magnetically shaped, intensely hot, molecules thick. A crackling, menacing electric hum as the mass and kinetic energy of the bullets converted directly to heat and strobing light.

To Max, it was like looking at the sun.

Squinting, the men kept firing, moving forward slowly toward the steps. Glass above and below Chloe chipped and shattered with the wild shots. Max could barely hear the screams of the panicking crowd over the thunder of the rifles and harsh energetic crackle of Chloe's barrier.

Max thought calmly to herself, _I could just freeze them outside, before they come in. Grab Sophie and Chloe and see what we can learn…_

She caught the blur - the little girl in the yellow dress who asked for Max's autograph earlier. She was running out into the wall of bullets! _Shit._

Max could undo it, but didn't have the heart to watch it happen. She went to throw the world into a hard freeze.

 _Wait Max! Don't!_ Sophie's inner voice.

The little girl - Alena was her name, Max remembered - came to a halt between Chloe and the men, facing them. She didn't threaten or move. Her face was somewhere between sadness and worry. But she stood firm. They stopped firing almost immediately. Max noticed the man with the news camera on the balcony above, red dot over his lens, capturing everything.

A dozen hummingbird drones screamed in through the front door, slamming into the three men at supersonic velocities, knocking them forward while releasing sixty thousand volts each.

The shooters collapsed, shaking violently.

* * *

 **Max** ran to Alena, but she'd already turned away, kneeled down on the ground in front of the stairs. Next to the photographer who'd taken the first bullet. He was face down. Unmoving. She shook him, broke into tears. _Oh._ Thought Max. _Ohhh…_ She went to her knees next to Alena, put her arm around her.

John was up the stairs to Tracey's side, dress shoes slipping on the blood and glass. He was trying to stop the bleeding, assess her wound. She was obviously in intense pain.

A dozen more tiny drones raced in low through the front door, leveled out, spread, circled the atrium. Max knew Chloe would be using them to look for other shooters, any devices, scan for the injured, taking vitals. Building a triage map.

Chloe's voice. Above her. "Twenty-three injured. One fatality."

Max, through the link, "I need to go. Undo this. Chloe, who are they? Did you see which way they came from?"

Sophie's voice in her head. Softly. "Max. Wait."

Alena looked up to Chloe, through tears. "Can you lift the bullet parts out of my dad?"

Chloe dropped to her knees on the opposite side. "Sweetie, I'm not sure if it would help."

"Please?" wiping her eyes, "There's not much time."

Chloe nodded, head down. After a moment, twisted shards of metal forced their way past the edges of the hole in the middle of his jacket, the last snagging on cloth, tenting it before breaking free. They hung in the air, ugly, sharp, then dropped into Chloe's hand.

"Help me take his jacket off?"

Max could hear sirens in the distance. Not enough of them. The music had stopped, the room was quiet, save for the moaning of the injured. Nearly everyone had mobile phones out. Some documenting the scene, others calling for help.

Max and Chloe lifted the man's arms and pulled his jacket from his body. His white shirt had surprisingly little blood. He'd fallen so quickly.

Alena pulled the bottom of the shirt out of his waistband, dragged it up toward his head.

Max could see the wound now. Middle of his back. Just to the left side of his spine. One of the bullet fragments probably ripped right into his heart. Her own was breaking for Alena. She couldn't find a way to save William. But this was their fault. She'd be damned if she was going to let another girl grow up without her father. She'd make this right again.

Alena laid her hands on each side of the wound. Said a small, quiet prayer. Pushed the wound closed. Slowly, the puncture began to knit back together.

 _Healer_. Max nodded, let out a sigh of relief. Now she understood.

Alena kept focus. Most of the damage would be inside.

After a minute she stopped. Sadness on the verge of panic in her voice. "His heart…it's…not beating right…I can't…"

"Here, move back." said Chloe gently.

Max took hold of Alena as Chloe rolled her dad toward her, onto his back.

Chloe lifted his neck, tilted his head back to clear the airway, placed her left hand over his chest.

Max could still smell the changes in the air from Chloe's barrier. Like after a lightning storm.

Chloe's fingers and thumb formed a bridge over his heart. She closed her eyes. Placed her palm flat on his chest. After a moment, she smiled at Alena, nodded. "It's okay. His heart cells just needed to be reminded how to work together."

Alena felt his chest as well. Happy tears. She didn't have the words, but they all understood. She placed her hands over his heart, finished what she'd started.

Max asked. "Alena, is there anything you can do to help any of the other hurt people here? It's okay if you're too tired. I'm…not sure how that works for you."

She nodded, smiling, wiping tears away. She placed her father's jacket under his head as a pillow, pulled his shirt back down, gave him a quick hug and kiss. "Who needs help the most?" she asked Chloe.

"I'll take you."

"Good, cause I'll need your help, like before."


	3. The wounded

**Chloe** could see that Alena was nearing her limits, shoulders sagging, movements progressively more labored. But she wouldn't stop. Not yet. They'd attended to the four most critically wounded around the room before moving on to help three more with less serious injuries. They worked fast, averaging under a minute with each patient. Kid was a trooper.

"More ambulances will be here soon." Chloe said. "It's okay if you need to stop or rest." She knew it was technically true. They'd get here eventually. Demand was high across the city. Drunken idiots, mostly. She'd been tracking three coming toward them from different directions, running lights and sirens, along with half a dozen police cruisers. The closest was still half a mile away. But the streets were slow tonight, and the strip closure effectively cut the city in half. She continued to manipulate traffic lights to clear the roads for them as best she could.

"I'll be okay. Let's see if we can help one or two more?"

Tracey was next on her list. John had already stopped her bleeding and left a serviceable battlefield dress, but there were still fragments buried inside. She was on her back on an overstuffed modern leather sofa near the entrance, leg elevated by multiple cushions, waiting for EMS. John had carried her over, only reluctantly leaving her to help Tyrell secure the unconscious attackers and their weapons.

Chloe sat on the edge of the cushion next to Tracey, held her hand while Alena removed the necktie and undershirt covering her wound. Tracey looked to Chloe with a searching mixture of pain, fear and confusion. Confusion seemed to be winning. She had questions.

"You're gonna be okay. I promise. But this will definitely feel a little weird." As Chloe turned her attention to the wound, Tracey grabbed her arm with her free hand.

Rapid-fire, she asked, "Is everyone okay? What happened? Who were those people? What…was that light? What did you do up there? Why is there a child looking at my leg? Why are you all acting normal? Like this is all normal!? This isn't… I mean, what…"

Chloe answered her in an intentionally slow, calming voice, "What you're feeling is normal for what you've been through, Tracey. But the danger is over now. You're okay. I promise, everything is gonna be fine. Some of the guests were hurt, but they'll all be okay too. There's nothing more to worry about. You weren't the target, but you did catch a stray bullet in your leg. We don't know who they are yet, or what they wanted, but they've all been caught, and more ambulances and police are on their way here. Under control. We'll have time later for a catch-up, but there are others who need our help once we've finished with you, so I can't stay long." She ignored the other questions for now. They'd have to figure out how best to approach all of that with her, assuming Max let this timeline continue at all.

Chloe looked to the wound. Drone overhead shared data from a quick penetrating scan. Chloe saw what was going on inside through an augmented-reality style overlay of her normal vision. She had the raw data too, but for her purposes this rough visual would work fine. The bullet had entered, fragmented into three pieces. Two curved, missed bone and went clean through together. The third was lodged sideways between her tibia and fibula, partially embedded in each bone. Chloe turned back, squeezed Tracey's hand. "Like I said, this will feel a little weird." As she spoke, the fragment broke free of the bones, rotated, slid out the way it went in.

Tracey winced, squeezed Chloe's hand. Blood flowed freely again.

Once the metal was clear, Alena physically closed the wound, helped Tracey's body heal the damage. She signaled Chloe, who gave Tracey's hand a final squeeze before they moved on to the next victim. The bruising had cleared. No visible signs of scarring remained. Just shades of dried blood on pale skin.

The thunder of fireworks started up across the city. Midnight.

* * *

 **Max** came at them different than she might have otherwise. They brought guns to a party and hurt a lot of people. But the note… There would be more going on than was immediately obvious. And they'd stopped shooting earlier, when Alena made herself a target. _So…definitely attempted-murderous assholes, but…maybe not complete monsters._ Some part of them was still human anyway. _I can work with that._

They were on the floor against the left wall in the atrium, hands zip-tied behind them. Hoodies and plate carriers stripped away. Two were regaining consciousness, the third was still out.

Max leaned down. "Hey. Wakey." She gave the one in the middle a quick smack on the cheek with her hand. Didn't time shift, so there wasn't any real force behind the hit. Enough to startle him. Not that they could have hurt her, but they'd all taken shots at Chloe - and a part of her still wanted to send him backward through the wall for trying.

He shook his head a little, eyes focused on the man to his left. Then Max. He tried to move. As the world came back to him, he seemed to realize where he was, bound like this. His eyes darted in a panic. Saw the room beyond, people injured. Sirens getting closer. Tried to wriggle. Finally stopped. Dropped his head, let out a breath.

The man to his right started rocking forward then back. Said quietly, rapidly, "fuck. fuck. fuck…"

Max stood, crossed her arms. "How'd you think this was gonna go?"

They sat in silence. The third man, on the right, was waking up.

Chloe interrupted with an update for John over the shared link. _John - Trace is back to her dainty-doily self. But ah…heads-up, dude. I could almost see an actual physical question mark over her head when we bounced…_

 _Thanks Chloe._ John shrugged at Max, uncertain. They'd talk after.

Max turned her attention back to the third man, nearly awake. "What about you? Sharing?"

"Oh…fuck. What…how long? What time…?"

"Just after midnight. Been out for a few minutes."

The one in the middle elbowed him. He elbowed back. "What? Fuck dude - we're out. Might still be time…"

Max made an educated guess. "You're not very nice people. But…this…wasn't your idea, was it?"

The third man spoke, "Where are the cops? Fuck, man. They have my wife…my daughter…they said…"

Max glanced at Sophie. She nodded once. He was telling the truth. _They're in trouble too…_ Just pawns. Targets. Shooty targets. But still…

"What's your name?"

The man in the middle elbowed him again, threatened, "Say one more fuckin' word man. If my sister dies cause of your fuckin' snitch-ass mouth…"

"Fuck you 'Turo. I was outta this shit for a year, man. Look around - look at us. They're dead anyhow."

Max saw the familiar pattern. The 'or else' behind the scenes. She knew Sophie already had the details from their minds. Who. How. And Chloe probably traced movements back far enough to see what happened for herself. Maybe even followed forward to see where they were being held… If not, she would soon.

Max had what she needed. Could have walked away from them right then. Left them like this. Helpless, afraid, worried. Not knowing. Serve them right…

But it pained her to admit that she'd been right where they'd come from. More than a few times. Weighing the value of a loved one's life against the lives of others. Compelled by nature, or assholes with leverage, to contemplate the horrific. To have to make a choice. It was all fucked up. Didn't give them a pass, but she wasn't entirely unsympathetic.

And…maybe Sophie was partially right. She thought of Kate. And Alena. This was a different timeline. Maybe it wasn't enough to just 'do'; not this far back anyway. Maybe they needed to make more of an effort to connect with people too. To try to take away fear, whenever they could, and maybe leave a little hope instead. Even if it seemed like some people didn't deserve it. Maybe _especially_ because they didn't seem to deserve it…

"You guys know you fucked up tonight. You'll do time…and I think you're probably okay with that part. But I just want you to know - I understand why. And despite all of this, I promise - we'll find them."

"The fuck is this 'we' shit, bitch?" middle-man scoffed, angry. "Like some rich piece-a-ass in a blue dress is gonna fuckin' _do somethin'?_ Th'fuck?"

"Hi there… 'Turo, is it? You said her first name when you came in. But, I have to ask. Did you know who she was when you tried to kill her? No? You…still don't know who we are, do you?"

The man to his right quietly repeated again… 'fuck. fuck. fuck…"

"Had other things on my mind." 'Turo looked away.

"Well, that promise? It has weight. I know you couldn't have known this, but…if you'd come to us before, we would have helped you… You should let others know at least. For future ref. It doesn't need to end like this for anyone else."

The third man - on the left - said, "They only showed us her face. Name. Where and when. That was it. Then they'd let 'em go. But now, I don't… Can someone really? Find them? Please? I know this is so fucked up. Asking like this, after… But look, they're here…on my arm. See? All I have. …my angels…and…"

"…nothing else matters. I know. I do understand." Max turned so he could see the ink on her upper right arm. Three blue butterflies. "I have one of those too. _My_ angel. You met her. Her name…it's Chloe. Price. I'm Max Caulfield."

'Turo and the man on the left lifted their heads, stared up at her. It was like something clicked, pushed them halfway to deer-in-headlights. They clearly knew _those_ names. Somehow managed to look sick and a little relieved at the same time.

The one on the right had a different reaction. Stopped his litany of 'fuck' when he caught the tattoo. Heard her name. He was still rocking forward and back. "Shouldn't even fucking be here, man. I fucking _knew_ I knew you. Saw you. before. I fucking knew I knew you…"

He looked up at Max with clear eyes. "I was there, man. Two years ago. Mom wanted me to drive my nana around. Car died. I was fucking there. Same blue. Saw you. _Eye of the motherfucking storm._ Shit makes sense now. It all fuckin' makes sense now. It was really you. All those stories. Videos. Fuckin' web shit. It's all true, ain't it? All you? It's always been you. Man, I fuckin' _left_ the life. Same day. After seein' that shit? Out in the real world? Shouldn't be here. Just… my dad… assholes took my fuckin' dad. I was fuckin' straight, man. Two fuckin' years. They took his goddamn finger. I couldn't… I just… He's…my dad, you know? What am I s'posed to do?"

His voice broke, got quiet as he stopped rocking. Held her eyes, searching. "I know I fucked up. I didn't want any of this… None of us did. Don't care what happens to me now, but…I'm begging you, man. please…I'm here, askin' for your help. …find him? …for my mom if nothing else?"

"You have my word."

They finally understood. All of it.

* * *

 **Max** asked, "Ready?"

Police officers had finally arrived at the gallery few minutes before, along with EMS. They were busy treating the dozen or so minor injuries Chloe and Alena hadn't gotten to. Cops were amazed there were so few people hurt, given the amount of blood and number of shell casings on the ground. All three of the shooters were under arrest. They'd chosen to pull the triggers. They were on their own with law enforcement - regardless of their motivations. Consequences weren't any different just because the choice was a fucked up no-win.

Tracey was busy fielding questions without answers from guests and police when Max vanished.

She folded herself and the team directly to the 24th floor ops center, A-wing. Said, "What do we know?" They landed in a planning room in the back, near the central core of the building. The open ops floor outside was massive, taking up an entire level from the core to the outer edge of the wing. One of twenty such centers in the main structure now, distributed among the other floors and wings.

The planning room in each could be closed off for focus. Or the walls rolled, opened up to integrate with the entire floor as needed. It was closed for the moment. Twenty by thirty feet as currently configured, mostly white, giving them four walls to play with. One solid, two frosted glass, and the last was made of light fabric panels, with wall-screens behind. They could draw, project, pin, anything they needed. The modular conference table in the middle doubled as shared workspace, converted to a mix of standing desks, touchscreen surfaces, light-boxes, whatever they needed. Tables, chairs and sofas ringed the room. Everything was moveable, reconfigurable with minimal effort.

Remixable spaces, surfaces, tech, adapting to whatever was required in the moment.

When they arrived, the planning room was lights-out, quiet, but Chloe brought it to life with a thought. Like a mad conductor, she splashed streams, photos, videos, maps, satellite feeds, social graphs, scrolling information across all four walls. Everything she'd had running here and in her head. Then she projected holos of the city, structural enlargements of the target buildings, traffic flows, and drone positions and more above the conference table…

 _Just like old times._ Max thought to herself. _Just with less 'cork board and push pins' and more 'floaty glow in the dark stuff'._

Sophie pointed as she spoke. "OK. The men pulling strings took four hostages to make this happen tonight. Marietta, twenty-eight, and her six-year-old daughter Nessa. Pictured there. Wife and daughter of David, one of the men arrested. Blanca, seventeen, and sister of your pal 'Turo. And Antonio, forty-eight. Father of Tomas. All were taken off the street two days ago. From what I could see in memories of the video calls used to motivate each of our shooters to action, the hostage family members weren't treated gently. At all. So it's probably only a matter of time this morning. When you find them, you should expect that they're experiencing the after-effects of physical and psychological trauma. Be mindful with them."

Chloe leaned over the back of a chair on her arms, added, "Everyone's been distracted by New Year's celebration stuff, but the live stream of the attack has started to go viral across services in the awake parts of the world. Nearly all of the chatter is shaping into a story of a little girl who stared down terrorists and stopped a midnight massacre. Doesn't matter that it's not exactly right. That's what's out there. They're already calling her 'tank-girl', cause of tank-guy, I guess. But that means the asshats know this is a fail. They took the hostages from four different locations, ended up at three. Here, here, and here. Brought the mother and daughter together yesterday. I've sent details to your phones. Satellites, here, show warm bodies, still moving. We should expect resistance."

"So the clock is ticking…" added John, not really a question. He leaned back against a wall. "The question of 'why' is something we still have to figure out. Why hostages and amateur shooters? Why not hired guns for this?"

Tyrell picked up the thread, "…and why there? Why tonight? Why target Chloe? Why bother with any of this at all? They know it wouldn't work."

"We got a note earlier." said Chloe.

"That would have been good to know before the shooting started?" John said.

Max answered. "Not really. All it said was ' _Don't hurt them. They're in trouble too_ '. No further content or context. We figured something might happen, but we didn't know what or when, and didn't want to tip off anyone future-scanning. It's why I asked you not to fire back at them, though."

"Okay, but some future version of you still knew Tracey had been shot?"

"Maybe. Might not have gone exactly the same in the prior timeline. This time, we were delayed a few minutes by the note itself. That put our departure off by those minutes at least, changed our timing on the way over, early green becomes a red, now it's two or three minutes more… Waiting for the valet… We're in totally different place and time from then forward. Six or seven minutes off. Crowds are displaced, who we talk to inside changes - everything shifts from one tiny ripple. Sleeping and waking up to an alarm can smooth out or reset minor interference each day, but everything til then is almost always gonna be slightly different. You know how this works."

"Okay, yeah. Sorry Max. I…you see where my mind is still…"

Chloe said, "Don't sweat it, Michaels. We're all human."

He looked at her. Blinked.

"We're all _mostly_ human."

Raised an eyebrow.

" _Most_ of us are mostly human. Whatever. Fuck off, John. You know what I mean..."

He grinned. Joined them around the table. "Okay - so we still don't know who, or why. What the hell were they trying to accomplish?"

"Test or a probe maybe? Or maybe the party wasn't the point. Why split up the hostages, for example? Maybe it's all about the rescues." Tyrell answered.

"Huh. So maybe they assumed we'd kill the targets, but still work digital forensics backward? Come back to their leverage just the same…" John scanned the walls, building schematics, info on their mobiles. "We have three sites to hit on opposite ends of the city. Warehouse, house-house, and a penthouse. And we're pretty much it right now, given the short window of time. LVPD is tied up with peak amateur night, and we're running a skeleton staff…"

Chloe shrugged. "So… a trap."

"Traps." corrected Max, cheerfully, sitting on the arm of a sofa.

Chloe shook her head. "It's cute that they try, I guess. But gah. So much stupid… Like, oooh. You sprung a trap. Ohh noooo." She did a variation of scary jazz-hands in the air.

A few laughs around the room.

"No - look, I'm serious. They're like…They're like these dudes out on the ocean in a small boat, right? Being all sneaky and shit, just going fishing for some bass in the dark or whatever, when something pulls on the line. They go to reel it in, all excited like uncoordinated fucking puppies, only to find that the tug they thought was a tasty fish was actually the first pull into the gravity well of a collapsing neutron star… And they're always surprised, like it's the first time. 'Fuck. That's not a little fish. It's a goddamn fucking superstar we can't escape. Now what?' Next day, some other village idiots find their empty boat, row out to sea again, looking for fish… Starts all over. Dumbasses. All of them… It's like they don't have internal email or text or anything… Nobody saying 'maybe don't fuck with the cosmic space goddess and her army of awesome, overly attractive friends'. I don't know. Am I wrong? Am I the asshole here?" Looking around…

A few more laughs.

"I really don't want to underestimate them, but…" Max shrugged.

"I'm tellin' ya. Dumbasses."

"Yeah… At some point, they're gonna run out of village idiots, though. Should watch out for that."

"Not today. Five bucks."

"Not gonna take that bet." Max shook her head.

"Fine. Whatevs. Um. We should prolly get a move on anyway. How do you wanna go in, Maximus? Ninjas, or god-mode?"

"Personally? I was thinking of just walking into the trap and setting it off. I mean… I _am_ me and stuff." Max stood up, shrugged.

"God-mode then. No. Good plan. I'm in. Spaghettification of idiots - never gets unfun…"

Max, trying to hold back a laugh, "I'll take the warehouse. Marietta and Nessa. Chloe and her minions can take the house-house for Antonio, and you two see who else is here, maybe initiate a recall if you can, then hit the penthouse for Blanca?"

Chloe added "Sophie's on comms from here. I'll monitor and route maps, scans, and send anything useful in real time, direct it to you guys through the link or to mobiles, whichever's more relevant. And run drone recon or other interference as needed, but if I get distracted cleaning out the house-house, you all might have to wing it for a bit."

John asked, "Okay, just so we're all clear? This is one giant wing-it, right? We're splitting up and going separate ways, have no plans, no real intel, no backup, walking into at least one, possibly three known traps, outnumbered and with hostage's lives at stake?"

"Uh. Correct."

"Prettymuch, yup."

"Okay then. Just…wanted to make sure we're all on the same page."

"Cool. Usual rules of engagement? Priorities?" asked Tyrell.

Max said, "Yes to the first, and I think the number one priority is to locate and extract the hostages safely. Secondary would be picking up any bad-guy intel lying around. Henchmen, toys, data - anything we can grab. They've been quiet, and we've honestly hit a bit of a wall on the 'them' front in the past few months. This could be a super-useful opportunity for us, but not at the expense of innocent lives."

Chloe, in a deep voice, "I don't believe in coincidence. When I see three objectives, three captains…"

Max reached, almost falling over, put her hand over Chloe's mouth with a laugh. "No. Bad Chloe!"

"Mmphh!" She wiggled out. "Come on, Max! This may be the _one_ time I legit get to do the 'Providence' speech…"

Max shook her head, rolled her eyes, looked to John and Tyrell, "You guys good?"

"We're good." confirmed John, chuckling.

Tyrell, "Was kinda hoping to hear that speech though… You know, for morale purposes?"

"Oh my god, you guys are killing me. Have at it… Imma go." Max laughed, shared a hand-slap fist-bump with Chloe, waved at the rest, blew Chloe a kiss, then vanished.

"Catch ya in the link, Supermax." Chloe called out to empty air.

"Hey Chloe. Yeah, we haven't left the link… I'm…I'm still here. In your head..."

"So…I'm _technically_ not wrong then."

* * *

 **Max** stepped off the curb at the edge of a large, nondescript industrial area on the southwest side of town. The air was cold. Lights casting everything in sodium-yellow. The fireworks in the distance had mostly stopped. It was quarter after midnight.

 _Happy 2016, random warehouse area._

She crossed the empty street. Froofy blue cocktail dress. White high-top sneakers.

* * *

 **John** and Tyrell did a quick scan of the ops roster as they geared up, asked one of the on-duty coordinators to trigger a call-down, headed toward the roof. Maybe they'd get some backup out of it. They found one standby helicopter pilot asleep in temporary quarters on the 30th. Woke him on the way.

The penthouse in question was one of three at the top of the Palms Place, off the strip. Fifty floors up. With the traffic, it would be easier to fly over and drop down. They'd keep the pilot on station in the area, but would probably need to figure another way out. Or down.

They were up in the air in five.

* * *

 **Chloe** took the elevator all the way down to their basement sub level garage. She changed out of the neoprene dress and into a t-shirt and leathers from her go-bag on the descent. _Nice to be out of that wetsuit…who thought that was a good material for a formal dress?_ The Aventador was still with the gallery valet, so she scanned the other vehicles. Needed to get to Henderson. Cross town and cross traffic. Something smaller. Narrow. Fast.

Other side. Corner. Orange. Black. Her modified KTM 1290R. Bell Race Star helmet. Black racing boots.

 _Perfect._

* * *

 **Max** walked along the perimeter of a large steel warehouse. Her shoes scuffed against the old pebbly asphalt, making slide-crunch echoes with every other step. _Door should be up ahead. Shit. If this is even the right building?_

John's voice in her head, _…Chloe, you should have seen their faces when Max told those guys who you really were. It was like they'd just seen a ghost._

 _Fuck man. Goats are terrifying. It's those fucking eyes._

Chloe chimed in. _Ghost, not goats, Ty. LOL. Wait. We're in a telepathic link. How are you misunderstanding him?_

 _John, were you *thinking* about a goat at all maybe?_ Max asked. _Not to make it weird or anything…_

 _Uh. Maybe? There was a video of baby goats standing on other animals that went around a few weeks ago…_

 _It can work like that in here sometimes. Usually your words move directly to others. But sometimes, more abstract thoughts interfere. Other people don't always have the same mental constructs past the words themselves, so wires can sometimes cross._

 _See Chloe? Wasn't me. Thanks Sophie._

 _You're very welcome, Tyrell._

 _Hey, Chlo, am I at the right building?_

 _Hang on… Lemmie look. Nope. Next block over._

 _Shit. That's like a quarter of a mile. These blocks are super huge._

* * *

 **Chloe** launched out of the underground exit ramp, catching a little air over the sidewalk before hitting the street.

 _Womp womp. Least you're wearing comfy shoes, Max._

 _True. But it's super fucking cold. I should seriously go back and change real quick._

Chloe shook her helmet. _OMG, you're such a wimp._

 _Hey! Be nice. I'm in a cute dress. And it's literally like thirty degrees out here or something._

 _Dude, you know you can just speed up time in the air around you, right? A fast atom is a warm atom? :) Just do it as a thin gradient instead of a hard edge so you still get some air flow. You and the world at 1x, but a few-inch-thick blanket of air right at your skin running at like 1.3x or 1.4x maybe? Just walk the differential up until you're toasty? Should totally work. Thank me later._

After a pause, _Holy shit, Chloe. Look at you. All smart and junk. It's like summer! Yay! Now I can be warm *and* cute!_

 _Just the way I like you, Max…_

 _Awww._

 _Focus - you two can flirt later._

 _Grouch. Not our fault your girlfriend is probably super-pissed at you._

 _Um... actually Chlo, it kind of is..._

 _Whatever. Just be glad you're not up here with us, Max. Winter prop wash is a whole new level of wind chill._

 _Pass. You guys almost there?_

 _Minute or two. We had to circle the long way around McCarran._

 _Still waiting on that speech from Chloe though._

Max conceded, _We should totally do a Matrix Trilogy movie night, you guys._

 _Or karaoke night might be fun?_ suggested Sophie.

 _Why…haven't we all done this yet?_ Max wondered out loud, but not out loud.

 _Well, if we're doing karaoke, I call Hector as first pick on my team._

 _I'm not sure it works that way, Chlo. Karaoke isn't like dodgeball._

 _It could be…_

 _I'm in too. Assuming I can navigate my way through this new Tracey situation._

 _Sorry, John. Kind of inevitable that she'd stumble across something weird eventually. How serious are things with her? I mean really?_

 _Pretty serious. It's only been six months, but…it's all been great til tonight._

 _Sophie? Chloe? Any reason you can see why we shouldn't bring her in?_

 _Nothing from me. Nothing in her thoughts or predilections indicates she'd be a security threat. She's sincere in her affections for John. She has the right mix of temperament and flexibility to roll with things without breaking. Her ties are clear, nothing hidden. No agendas, no compromises, compulsions or character issues._

 _Yeah, pretty much the same from me on the digital side, with one caution, Max. She's not an obvious threat, but her family's social, financial, school and business networks have a few mystery people lurking. One or two removed. Records, but not much in the way of information, communications, any of that sorta shit. From them or about them. It's possible they're old people with old wealth who are technophobes and value their privacy, maybe. Or something else. Just something to monitor. She doesn't have direct contact, but her family does, and they have a deep psychological influence over her. At least from what I can see in the comm trails._

 _Your call, John. But giving her the real tour of our daily life might realign things between you two… And give some context for tonight._

 _Thanks guys. I know the gaps have been bugging her a little. This would help us on a couple of levels beyond the obvious, I think. Hang on. We're about to drop._

Chloe split lanes through traffic at eighty.

 _You can't think at us and fall down a rope at the same time? What the hell dude? Fuckin' uni-taskers anyway… Your rooftop looks clear. I'm showing one guy on the next floor down, center, watching TV, and our target one level below that, southwest corner. On a bed, maybe? Second person in a chair. Guard, I guess. Below looks empty for at least two floors._

 _Thanks Chloe._

 _No prob._ Music was thumping in her head as she cut between lanes. " _Baby's got an atom bomb… Motherfuckin' atom bomb… 22 megaton…"_

 _Hey Chlo - I can hear some music bleeding over. What are you listening to?_

 _Oh, sorry - I'll turn it down. I kinda copied the DJ's playlist from the 90's rave room before we bailed. Pretty sure you were like a year old when this song came out. Bass is pretty sick though._

She accelerated through the red light, shooting the gap between two crossing cars at just over a hundred miles an hour. Inches to spare.

 _Hey - what about you, Sophie? Anyone new in your life?_

 _No._

 _Oh. Well. Okay then. Uh._

John updated. _We're on the roof. Heading down._

Max accidentally sent everyone a mental picture of a frog with a cute snail for a hat. _Oops. Sorry - dunno where that came from. Hey, guys? I just realized something. I haven't actually done anything tonight. Like, at all. I mean, other than AirMax us from the gallery to home base. This is all you guys tonight… You're awesome. Just sayin'. #TeamYouGuys! :D_

Chloe narrowly missed the mirror of a parked truck as she passed a car on the right. _Don't forget Alena, dude. Can we hire her, by the way? She's really got her shit together. You should have seen her after you wandered off to talk with the douchenozzle triplets. She was drained, exhausted, but kept right on going. She's a fucking boss. After she brought her dad back, she saved another three who were right on the edge. Fixed a handful more, including The Princess herself… XD_

 _Alena has a great sadness inside of her. Her mother died in a car accident months before her talent manifested. Only last year. She carries a very strong sort of 'what if' with her every day as a result. Even at such a young age, she's pushed it outward - it drives her to help others. Partly to escape her own undeserved sense of guilt. But mostly to heal away the 'what ifs' before they can infect other people who love the ones she helps directly. It's how she keeps them under control for herself._

 _Damn. That's fuckin' hardcore. It's just her and her dad?_

 _Yes. Her mother was a precog. But they moved here for her._ _To take advantage of the offer of protection you both made to talents. It was their hope that she could just be a normal little girl for a while longer. Sadly, the crash happened. They were all in the car._

 _Oh man… I had no idea, Sophie. Chlo, sorry - just thought of this - in the video from upstairs, is she just a shape, or can she be identified?_

 _Clear as fuckin' day, Max. Her and the shooters. Tracy and I were in a white flare in the video - barrier brightness oversaturated the camera sensor, so you can't make us out at all. But the camera dude got them really clearly. I made sure no one recorded any of her super-healing-time, but shit's still gonna change for her once they figure out who she is. Far as anyone knows, she's a normal little girl who just did an extraordinary thing. Which is completely fucking true._

 _Chloe is right. Her talent wasn't stopping bullets. She ran out anyway. I saw it in her mind before she did. It was partly to protect her dad. But partly to protect Chloe too. She was terrified. Hoped it would work, but didn't know for sure. That hope was enough. This is what I was talking about earlier. You inspired her courage. She knows you protect other people like her. So she tried to protect you when she thought you needed it. It was this simple for her. And this kind of love, it ripples. And now others will see her courage. And they'll feel something for seeing it. Maybe be inspired themselves at some point. More ripples. Who knows where they'll go next?_

 _That's why you stopped me. From freezing all of it. You knew this would happen?_

 _She wasn't sure they'd stop shooting. I was. I wouldn't have stopped you otherwise._

 _Right filter. Chlo - if it's just the two of them now - what's their financial situation? Are they okay?_

Chloe did a quick scan of bank statements, tax records, deposits, debt, bills, as street lights raced behind her. _They get by, but they're coasting to break-even every month. Rent a small two-bedroom apartment, payments on a four-year-old car, in good shape. Her mother was the one with the steady job. Looks like they took a hit when she passed. He does photos at weddings and events after hours. Part time driver as his main gig most days. Sitter would eat what he makes moonlighting, so he probably brings Alena with him to most jobs. What are you thinking, Max?_

 _I'm thinking she needs to see more of her dad. And for that, he needs a better job. Less worry. Something that pays at least 4x what he makes now in his best month. Steady pay, safe work, regular-people hours so they can spend more time together. It's already hard enough growing up with a missing parent. To struggle, on top of everything else… They're done with that as of right now._

 _Max…_ Chloe knew where this was coming from…

 _And it's work, not charity, so, pride intact?_ Sophie asked.

 _Something like that._

 _I'll make a note then. See what I can find that might suit him._

* * *

 **Max** finally arrived at the right address. Massive roll-up warehouse doors on the front, street side. Standard door to the right of that.

Tyrell broke his mental silence. _We just tranq'd and tagged the TV watching dude. Heading downstairs._

Max continued her thought. _Thanks Sophie. Run background, ping his brain, see what he's good at, trained at, what he likes. Find something that will challenge him too. And something that would allow him to bring Alena to work for fun sometimes if he wanted? We owe her after tonight. And I'd like her to see that there are a lot of options open to her. Using her talent or her brain. Whatever she wants._

Max tried the door. Steel. Locked. She shifted her frame of reference relative to the world, gave the deadbolt a tap, and the knob a quick push. Metal sheared, deformed as the locking mechanisms flew inward. She normalized. Pulled the remainder of the door open and walked in.

She reconnected to Sophie. Her steps crunched underfoot. _Guys, I'm in. This is super weird. The whole place feels frozen inside. Like icicles and foggy breath frozen…_

 _Is it a refrigerated warehouse maybe? asked Chloe._

 _Maybe? How would I tell._

 _Is it cold?_

 _Yes, smartass. :P_

 _Okay - just asking. Jeeze. Um. City planning docs have that as a cold storage capable warehouse - you should see insulation and ducting and shit. Most of the real cooling should be embedded in the floor. Rated down to 35 degrees. Huh. Cold storage, but not frozen. Yeah, you shouldn't be seeing anything icy in there Max. If anything, it should be warmer inside than the outside air right now._

 _K. Definitely ice-cube town. Space is empty otherwise I think. Hang on._

 _I'm not showing anything weird on thermal from outside, but that might be the insulation…_ _I do show two heat blooms toward the back. High up? And you in your 90-degree air blanket, obvs._

Max could see dimly to the back, but searched around the inside of the front door for a light switch. Found it, flipped it on. Hanging fluorescent lights came to life at the ceiling in a series of metallic clicks and snaps. A low hum, some flickering.

 _Yeah - super frozen. Empty. A few steel support pillars. There's a trailer sized room near the roof in back at the top of some stairs. Looks like it might be an office or something. Fits your scan. Probably where they are. Heading back and up._

John gave another update. _We're downstairs at the far end of the penthouse now. Heading to the front corner bedroom._

Max got halfway across the warehouse floor when she felt something weird. A little dizzy. Heavy.

 _Hey - Chloe - you seeing anything? Feels like molasses in here._

 _Nope. No changes. What's the weird?_

Max felt something. Not static exactly. But…something. Energetic.

She was having trouble lifting her feet.

Staying upright.

Balance felt off.

 _Guys?_

She tripped, fell forward, sprawling onto the icy floor. Skinned her hands and knees against the roughness. The sensation of humming increased. Rose in pitch. She felt planted. Pinned. Like she was being sucked down. Hard.

 _Shit!_ Tyrell's inner voice. _Company. Dozen or so. Up from below, behind us. We're still moving ahead to Blanca._

Max couldn't move. She was cold again. Tired. Flat on the floor. Felt like she weighed ten tons.

She was finding it progressively more difficult to breathe.

* * *

 **Chloe** could see that John and Tyrell had new friends.

Thermals showed the floors below them were clear, but others visibly ran up the stairs from somewhere. _Time to play backup, minions…_

She remotely drove four of the hummingbird drones through the glass wall at one end of the penthouse, shattering it behind half a dozen men. She slammed three into the closest baddies, releasing voltage. They went down. More drones were on the way. One remained inside, flew downstairs. Heavy insulation against the glass windows. Enough to mask them. _Dozen total, but could be more in the building. Don't have good eyes, my dudes. Sorry…_

 _Thanks Chloe. Three down… We've got Blanca - and the kid's father is here too - Antonio. Abused, but alive. Surveillance might have missed the move…_

 _Crap. So the house-house is probably a bust._ Chloe took a left at the next intersection, accelerated through the apex of the turn, bike leaning hard, left knee barely above the street surface. _Breaking off. I'm coming to you guys then…_

Coming out of the turn, she caught the cell signal a fraction of a second too late.

The roadway exploded up into her from below.

The blast and debris threw her and the bike up, as her momentum carried her forward at nearly seventy miles an hour. Chloe shoved off. The bike caught, pinwheeled, plowed end over end into a row of cars, embedding into the back of an SUV with a crunch. Chloe sailed over the cars, hit the sidewalk in a fast roll, tumbling, sliding, bounced off the brick wall of a storefront too fast before coming to rest face down near a city tree.

* * *

 **John** saw the three men go down, sounds of snapping electricity a welcome counterpoint to the gunfire from their side. He and Tyrell had each taken a few shots, but shook it off. Advanced full-body kinetic armor, courtesy of MCCP. One of Chloe's designs.

They closed the bedroom door, barricaded it with a huge maple armoire. Would buy them twenty seconds, maybe.

They'd planned for one rescue. Had two. Found themselves trapped in a corner room, fifty floors up…

* * *

 **Sophie** could feel that Max was in pain when Chloe disconnected from the link. She reached out to reconnect, but couldn't find her

 _Everyone - I just lost Chloe._

 _Guys? Max?_

* * *

 **Max** was stuck. Ice melting under the downward pressure and heat of her face.

She couldn't move at all.

Losing breath.

Sophie said something, about Chloe she thought, but she wasn't sure what it meant.

Air units kicked to life with an angry metallic screech above. Blowers pushed super-cooled air around her. Fog fell heavy, pulled inward by the same force that held her. Vision distorted. Eyes changing shape under the downward pressure.

Her skin, tissue, felt like it was being sucked to the ground, flattened outward.

Cold.

Heavy.

 _MAX!_ Sophie.

She was having trouble forming thoughts. The hum. The buzzing.

She became aware of others all around her. Men.

Some maybe in suits, others in silver cold-gear.

Her senses were chaos.

Voices barely understood…

 _"We've got her.'_

 _"We are go…"_

Electricity.

Like tasers.

But higher. More.

Distractions. Like wasps.

Sticks spewing fog.

They pressed into her from a distance as she pressed ever down. Inward.

Ice melted away below. New ice formed above her.

Exposed skin was freezing against the floor.

Not concrete. Smoother. Clear.

Polycarbonate?

Something slid by below that. Massive.

She felt down into the space below the floor. Her senses misdirected. Some force. Some influence. Twisted ninety degrees in four dimensions. Only four.

But she saw the outlines.

The giant rotating disk under the warehouse.

Below that, cylinders. Symmetry. Coils. Going deep. Ten floors down? More?

Outlines of rings, energies, deep in the earth, stretching miles away, outward in at least six loops.

Like petals on a flower, with her at the center.

Fed, controlled from independent buildings… Far.

Surfacing at the crossover point where she lay. Dumping. Focusing. Energies building. Resonating.

Forces. More than one. Mimicking gravity?

Or catalyzing? Stepping from one to the next in multiple-stages?

She was distantly aware of the pain in her hips, ankles.

Pressure on her head.

Neck.

Vague.

Crushing.

Ringing. Past the electricity. Past the cold.

Some vast machine below.

Skin was tight above her now, as cold poured over.

Something amorphous.

Something liquid.

Nitrogen?

They weren't trying to kill her.

No perma-death rewind triggers ahead…

This wasn't that kind of trap.

This was a prison.

A holding tank.

A pin-board.

And an amplifier.

She was stuck on the target plate of some sort of focused gravity generator.

Electricity. Molecular magnetism. Denting space. _Immense_ power…

The accelerating rings pumped in more energy. More matter.

She was a target. Above a well. Absorbing.

Bending with space.

Reflector on the ceiling above.

Like a mirror for invisible waves, pushing back.

She could sense the flows now.

Now that she knew what she was looking for.

Geometries compressing from all directions… Force increasing.

They meant to lock her here.

Hold her.

Alive.

Frozen.

Stored.

Archived.

As permanently as they could.

She'd seen enough.

The scope of their effort.

Understood the shape of what they intended now.

How much had this cost them to plan? Build? Hidden like this? _Later._

It told her more than they intended.

What they thought they knew about her.

It was a good try. Clever.

More imagination than she expected from them.

She felt the horrible beauty of the machine.

Not hard to replicate its effects, now that they'd shown her how. _Later._

She closed her eyes.

 _Inescapable gravity. Density. Curvature._

 _In your universe…_

 _Not mine._


	4. Search and rescue

**Sophie** went for the elevator as soon as she lost Chloe. The car dropped a little as she entered. She pressed 14, willing the door to close more quickly. She didn't have any sort of real authority over MCCP operations. Not officially.

Officially, she worked in human resources. A title mostly intended as an inside joke. She did have a role screening out plants and spies from the ranks of new hires and employees… She'd even found a few dozen over the past two years. None had ever made it past the initial job interview process. But it wasn't her focus - and she wasn't the only telepath lurking the halls these days.

She watched the numbers slowly drop. A little anxious. A problem she couldn't solve on her own.

Well, it wasn't really a problem so much as a worry.

Maybe not 'worry', exactly. Not one she'd admit to.

It's not as though they were off plan.

Had to have one and all…

It was the timing. Two out of four were disconnected from her. And all three groups possibly in jeopardy.

Chloe was offline. But…that didn't necessarily mean anything. She wasn't indestructible - but she _was_ durable. To a degree that the difference between the two words meant very little in the everyday world.

And Ty and John appeared to be trapped. They were there, but not talking through her. And those two trapped in some dangerous corner was hardly a new phenomenon. Between their skills and toys, they'd find a way home. Or make one.

And Max was…well, she didn't know _what_ the situation was with Max, but…she was Max. That calmed her. Max. Their nuclear deterrent. Their guardian, savior, and occasional avenging archangel. Universal reset button… Friend. She'd be okay. Which meant they all would. At least…in the final timeline. Unspoken contract.

 _But Max isn't the only one with a responsibility to keep it that way,_ Sophie reminded herself.

She pushed 14 again, as though it would speed her descent.

She wasn't sure why she was feeling nervous tonight. They were all capable. Still. _Little backup heading out wouldn't hurt, right? Never need it til you need it?_ _Get the cleanup crews on their way at least?_ It was something she could do.

She'd taken inventory earlier. There were two live operations that required a full support staff tonight.

The first was collecting intel on a multi-border human trafficking ring. It didn't appear to have ties to anything else they were working on. But it was human trafficking. Slavery. No place for it in this world, and no place for it in the world they were building. They had the resources to help, weren't bound by bureaucratic nonsense, and they had no shortage of volunteers among the staff. And it was a zero tolerance thing for Max personally. Sophie was the only one besides Max who understood the details.

The second was an escort mission. Two of their staff biologists were in the field to collect additional endangered specimens for the arks. Backups. Safety copies. These specific specimens only lived in what was currently an active war zone. All the more reason for urgency. Fast in and out. One week.

Each mission had its own ops center. An entire floor of one wing, and a few hundred support staff working in shifts. Monitoring communications, research, imagery from drones and satellites, keeping an eye on assets, directing teams, liaising with outside forces when needed. Always something.

Both missions were important, but the latter was in a minor holding pattern for another two hours while their field team caught up on sleep. That's where she was headed. 14th floor. Elevator dinged. As the doors opened to the central core, Sophie headed to the far side of B-wing. Reached out to Ariel Ishii, mid-shift ops lead on the escort mission.

 _Hello Ariel, apologies for disturbing you uninvited._

 _Ms. Martin._ 私の脳は、あなたの脳です。 _What can I do for you? Is this about the museum incident with our fearless leaders? Or the street explosion near Henderson? Or the videos?_

 _General aftermath. Wait, what explosion?_

 _Gas line maybe? Or IED. Unclear. So…all of the above? Been on since 11:30. Quiet broke just after midnight…_

 _What's been happening?_

 _Ops control tried to recall a single team. But lines in to them and reception have been blowing up. It's been all over social and the news. We've been helping out, taking overflow on inbound calls for a few. Mostly off duty personnel checking in, asking if there's anything they can do to help. A few hundred too many are already heading our way. Tried to wave off as many as we could, but…_

 _No… If they want to come, let them. We can put them to work._

 _Noted. Hang on… Okay. Done. Don't take this the wrong way, which, I guess you can't, so never-mind. Why are_ ** _you_** _in the office tonight? I'm assuming you're around, anyway?_

 _We came here after the attack. I've been playing conduit. Ty Williams, John Michaels, Max and Chloe split up to rescue the family members of the museum shooters._

 _Wow. Every part of that sounds like overkill. Um. So where's the problem?_

 _Might be nothing. But I need to re-task you and part of your floor for an hour perhaps? A few can keep an overwatch on the sleeping ones in the field, yes? Once we get another floor up and staffed, we'll let you go. But for now, we'll need help directing a couple of teams here, probably need to move a few dozen prisoners from multiple locations, take over some active drones - backup mostly. Easier to show you, if I may?_

 _Sure. Where are you? I can come to you._

 _I'm standing next to you._

Ariel turned her head, startled in her chair. _Jesus Christ. You just scared the living shit out of me! Wow. Okay. Yeah. Please don't do that? No…offense._

 _Sorry. My fault. I forget to make out-loud noises sometimes._

 _…surrounded by goddamn ninjas…_

* * *

 **John** placed his gloved hand flat on the wall next to the door. Tapped his forearm to bring the display to life, hit the T-scan icon. Palm tingled. Holo over the back of his glove showed what was on the other side. He counted nine hostiles beyond the wall in various states of cover. Two approached the door. Looked like they were in standard gear. Fatigues. Suppressed MP-5s. Plate body armor covering their upper chests and backs. Side-arms. Pads. Kevlar helmets. Slow. Top-heavy. _Good._

He gave Tyrell the count over his shoulder with his other hand. Backed away from the wall.

He recognized Blanca and Antonio from their photos when they first crashed into the room. Blanca was on the bed, Antonio in the chair by the windows. Both had been worked over pretty hard. The room smelled like sweat, copper and antiseptic. Antonio's left hand was wrapped, bloody. Confirmation on the finger story, anyway. Tyrell had already cut the zip ties, said they were here to help. Both were on their feet by the time John turned.

In a low voice, he said, "I need you two in cover. Bathroom - bathtub. Go now. Don't come out. We'll come get you when it's clear. Do you understand?" They nodded, obviously out of it. Moved off together. John looked at Tyrell. "Help me move this mattress in to cover them?"

Once the mattress was in place over the tub, they exited the bathroom. John killed the lights, closed the door on them.

He and Tyrell pulled their head protection from thin packs. Kinetic armor helmets with a closed face mask, integrated optics. Strong magnets snapped the front and back halves together, securing them around their heads. Rigid. Light. Padded inside. In combination with their seamless full-body armor, they were safe from most anything in the next room.

In contrast to the fabric and steel of a standard tac kit, their armor wore and felt more like a wetsuit. Chloe's design recommendations were obviously influenced by the sci-fi exo-suits of anime and video games. Future tech, but not too far out. Arc pads, imaging, diagnostics, video and comms all integrated. Most of the effort for this first gen was in the materials and construction.

From the outside in, they were built from thin carbon-ceramic ablative foam segments over a tightly woven exotic-fiber and polymer substrate. A middle layer of reactive, conductive fluid was sandwiched between the inner and outer layers of the suit. Self-repairing, it generated power through the wearer's physical movements, while active strand bundles lightly amplified muscle and movement speed. The suits were soft and pliable, but firmed up when struck - in proportion to the force applied. Non-Newtonian behavior under fire.

Fists or bullets. Didn't matter. They'd been there for the lab testing. Little short of a .50 would punch through. AP or incendiary ammo could be a problem, but that was true of most any armor system. Knife blades usually tangled at the outer fiber layers. They were comfortable. Light. Fluid. Chloe joked that the next gen would come with blinky lights, jet packs, active camouflage and energy barriers. He was pretty sure she was joking.

He caught their dark reflections in the mirror as they went to pull back the armoire covering the doorway.

Had to admit - it looked pretty fucking badass. _Now for the beta test._

* * *

 **Chloe** felt a slight pain, pressure. The world turning. What had been a dull background thrum of half-felt vibrations crystallized into excited voices, crackling flames, shoes on concrete, and distant sirens.

"Are you okay? Can you hear me?"

"She's breathing…"

"Get that helmet off…"

"No - leave it. She might have a broken neck. Wait for paramedics…"

Strangers' voices.

Her own breathing echoed back to her, muffled through the padding around her ears and head.

She let out a breath in a long, low "Ow."

 _Have to open your eyes sometime…_

* * *

 **Max** opened her eyes.

 _Gravity bends time more than space, assholes…_

She slowed the world to barely a crawl.

Watched as the magnetic field lines channeled the descending mists into nearly invisible curving streamers around her, vibrating slightly, even in super slow-mo. She pushed herself up off the plate. The ice layered over her shattered upward, a million fragments exploded, launching slowly, suspended in midair. Some of the smallest pieces were drawn to the lines of condensed mist.

As she stood, the canvas of her shoes, brittle from the freezing liquids, cracked and tore away from her, stuck to the floor. Her dress suffered the same fate, tearing along her sides first, then across front and back, thin frosted fragments of blue falling away like foil, trailing in space once clear of her influence.

 _Oh Goddammit…_

 _Way to ruin the moment Max._

 _Ugh. First rule of not mooning the bad guys - don't moon the bad guys._

She sighed. _I mean, Chloe could probably rock a proper terrifying beat-down half naked, but this isn't a good start for SuperMax style pwnage…_

 _Fuck it. Whatevs. Rerun. Need to heal the frostbite and scrapes anyway._

She rolled her eyes, shrugged, went to rewind, caught herself. Instead, jumped back into her captive, prone state, eyes closed. This time, she stopped reality first, warmed her skin and clothes while kicking in a rapid cellular rewind on the cold-damaged parts of her body.

 _Okay. There's prolly at least million things I can do. But this is a rare opportunity. This is them bringing their A-game with tech that doesn't exist in the real world yet. We'll save the hostages; we'll capture their dudes. Given. But Chloe would be disappointed if I didn't play a little in the moment. Test some things. And maybe flattening these asshats once or twice wouldn't feel terrible either. Not after the shit they've pulled on everyone tonight to get us here…_

She took a mental picture of the moment. A control point. A new marker to come back to.

She sped the world to barely a crawl. Pushed herself up off the plate. The ice shell that remained outside her captive layer of warmth shattered, fragments exploding outward, launching slowly, suspending in mid-air.

She rose to her feet. Thankful that her attire was along for the ride this time. She felt the downward pull. More than the usual gravity. But now, the physical effects were spread over more time - and greatly reduced. Standing, pressure off, she took her time. Scanned the room again.

Five men wore silver cold-suits. They were the ones who sprayed her down. Hoses attached to long thin metal nozzles, snaking back to supply lines along the wall. Half a dozen men in tactical gear aimed inward from each side of the warehouse. Most of their weapons she recognized. A few others looked more exotic. Different. Cables hung off the backs of them, running down through open doors in the floor. Power feeds, probably. Looked like early handheld rail-guns or energy weapons. _Cause the large ones work so well…_

At the front of the room, between her and the stairs, another five men, the middle one on his phone. Oddball. He was over-tan, messy sun-bleached brown hair, wearing sunglasses, t-shirt, and a brown linen suit.

His eyes were on her, slow. Widening, just beginning to realize that she was up in his frame of reference. She held his stare. Pivoted from her hips, struck the air to each side in sequence with the back of her hands. She walked off the plate toward him. Shockwaves spread outward - from her initial rise, the strikes and her movements - ripping the air. Sending compression distortions through the tangled force lines already muddying the scene…

She drew closer to normal time. The walls and ceiling of the warehouse exploded outward, riding the leading edges of the shockwaves like sails. Sails with irregular splotches of red that used to be people. The five in front of her pasted against the front of the warehouse. The room at the top of the stair folded, tumbled away.

 _Crap._

 _Usual shockwave caveats apply. Not good with buildings. Not good with hostages._ She looked back, then down. The waves had all traveled outward, not doing any real damage below. The machine hummed on.

She jumped back. Landed at her marker, just after the warm and healing had completed. Opened her eyes…

She already knew. Bare minimum, all she really had to do was rewind or jump back to the moment before she walked in. All it would take to avoid the trap completely.

The machine just couldn't hold her. At least, not in enough directions to be useful as a trap.

But she was here. Wanted to push beyond the obvious. Other boundaries. She started simple.

Slowed the machine itself, walked out. _Check._

Isolated the machine in time. _Check._

Threw the top of the machine through the ceiling into orbit. _Check._

Sped it up, throwing power out of phase. _Check._

Bubbled it. Rotated the bubble, severing all connections. _Check._

Slowed the world. _Check._

Beat up the dudes. Took a break for light Q&A with brown-suit guy. _Not a village idiot…but still in the row-boat. Check._

Stopped time. _Duh. Check._

Bubbled the entire block, half a mile or so across, rotated it a couple of degrees, severing incoming power and utilities. _Check._

Reduced her own immersion, reducing the effects in real-time, pummeled the cold-sprayers for practice. _Check._

Folded herself to their prefab house on planet Steve. Fort away from the world. Drank a glass of water. _Check._

Folded a large section of the machine's coils directly into the sun. _Check._

Carved the machine apart with the holographic event horizons of a thousand frozen mini-spheres of time-space. _Check._

Bubbled herself. Locked to Jupiter as a frame of reference. Flew off into space. _Check._

Warmed the air around the rotating disk beneath the middle of the structure. _Check. Huh. That actually worked?_

Created a gradient of differential time from the back to the front of the warehouse. The magnetic and gravitational fields piled up in space, fed-back, dragging, tore the machine apart. _Check._

Applied the lessons of their device, added some of her own influence. Moved the focal point of increased density around the room, crushed a few people. _Oops._ _Sorry! But…um…Check._

Went the other way, reversed the curvature, created a void of lightness, drifted up into the air. _Check. And…tickles!_

Still playing, she increased the density of space next to the coils below. A little bit too much. Punched a small hole through the universe - a modest singularity. Which, unfortunately, dropped down into the earth immediately after killing the machine… _Soooo that's a jump back… Yeah… Uncheck. No rogue black holes orbiting inside the planet, waiting to surprise murder us all in a hundred years, kthxbai._

So many more paths. All of them seemed viable. Some better than others.

It had been a while since she'd had reason to stretch.

She understood why they thought this would work. She might have been boned if her power was a real power, and not just a facet of intersecting existence. If she'd been a fully embedded region of shared time-space with nowhere or nowhen else to go, the trap could have done real damage. But they didn't know. What she was. Chloe hadn't even gotten to that point of suspicion until after a couple hundred years from now in the alt timeline. Only after upgrading to gen 6 augments and a neural lace. Here? Now? They didn't have the equations or the variables. Or nearly enough information to even suspect they needed to ask different questions. She was powerful, super weird, but still just a person to them, really. A mutual citizen of their shared universe. Another talent, bound by common rules and laws. What else was there?

 _Yeah. Or not._

Back to the present. Back to the beginning. Final run.

 _Clothes on? Check._

 _All healed? Check._

 _Everyone alive? Check…_

She ended with the sensible thing. The easiest path. And possibly the least dramatic…at least visually.

She reduced her own immersion in their universe.

Negated the effects of the various forces on her body completely.

She peeled herself up off the target plate in normal time. Pulled her legs under, rose to a crouch in her blue cocktail dress. She stood slowly, deliberately, straight up onto her feet. Ice fell away, accelerated into the floor. Shattered chips bounced off her sneakers. It still felt a little like standing on a subwoofer. The machine was on, mirages in the air violently shearing, rippling around her. Head down, she lifted her eyes.

The man in the sunglasses and brown linen suit stood two-dozen feet in front of her. He calmly spoke orders into his phone. As she rose, he gave other orders more loudly to the room. His name was James Andersen. She knew this because he'd made a point of telling her during a few of her prior play-throughs.

The men in the silver cold-suits pressed in, all five of them. Their metal rods spewed pressurized freezing liquid at her from all angles. None of it reached her. She smiled. Flying ice and liquid converted directly to thick white vapor, thanks to the layer of accelerated time inches above her skin. The fog cascaded down her to the floor under the intense flow of gravity and magnetic fields.

The forces shifted. Twisted. They changed something.

The field lines of the magnetics finger-painted sideways through the collapsing mists, twisting, knotting in some places.

Max shrugged. She was done experimenting. Satisfied that she'd learned what she needed to.

She didn't want to hurt any of them - a lot of contractors found themselves in front of her the same way John and his first team had. Just paid and not given any real details, or sold on the idea that she was a significant threat, blah blah… But they probably weren't part of the bigger picture. Not everyone was a lost cause. It's part of why she stressed non-lethal methods wherever possible, across ops, teams and her own behavior.

 _Enough._

"Bubble 'em all, let Margaret sort 'em out…"

She ironically froze the cold-suit guys first, each in their own sphere. Then the dozen with armor and guns stationed around the perimeter. Then the four in front with Andersen. Him, she pulled right to the ground. An afterthought, a microscopic application of her own command of gravity.

Hers.

Not enough to really hurt him. Just enough for a message.

Something simple. Something they all had to learn eventually - at least in spirit.

She wasn't a fish.

* * *

 **Chloe** loosened her chin strap, rolled halfway onto her side and pulled her helmet back. Got stuck on her forehead until she gave it a push up on the back. It clunked to the sidewalk and rolled to one side.

"You really shouldn't move."

"I'm okay, Walt…but thanks." She'd only been down for a minute. But she could see herself and the small crowd from above.

"How…did you know my name?" He looked to others in the loose semi-circle around her in confusion.

"Long story." After a quick self-eval, she sat up. _Nothing broken_. "Was anyone else hurt?"

"Not that I could see. Some cars are on fire and some stores are blown up back there." said a woman near the tree. _Julia._ Chloe refrained. She knew it mostly just freaked people out. All just data, though. It was all right there. "You're lucky to be alive!"

"You have no idea…" Her leather jacket was torn at the shoulder. First point of impact. She flipped the loose bit down, looked inside. T-shirt sleeve smudged up, but whole. No skin damage. Boots scuffed to shit, thinning leather at her hips, outside of the knee. Elbows of her jacket similarly worn down. _As advertised… Thanks for the sales advice, old-timey biker dude._

"I think your motorcycle is a loss, though."

"Shit."

 _Sophie? John? Anyone?_

 _Chloe! We just located you on surveillance cameras. Are you alright?_

 _Hi - yeah - I'm okay, Sophie… Fuckin' pissed, but okay. You guys got a floor up already? What's happening?_

* * *

 **Tyrell** took two hits to the chest at close range.

Closed distance, pulled the shooter's weapon down with a strike from one hand, pressed his free palm against the man's exposed neck. Quick jolt from the pads, and his target's legs went out from under him. Tyrell moved on to the next.

Duck, strike, press. Down.

Shrug off bullets. Deflect knife. Zap. Down.

John pulled a man out from behind a bookcase, jolting him into unconsciousness as he tossed him to the ground.

 _You guys still there?_

 _Hey - yeah - sorry Sophie. We've been focused on our hand to gun combat skills here._

 _Okay Ty - didn't mean to disturb you._

 _No, no, we're good - almost wrapped. John's just going after a runner. What's up?_

 _Chloe. They set an explosion trap for her in the street._

 _She okay?_

 _I'm good, Ty. Fuckin' precogs, man. Only way. I didn't even know I was turning down that street until you guys said Antonio was with you. Ruined my fucking bike... I spent months tweaking that thing._

 _Ouch. Track 'em down yet?_

 _Working on it._

John replied. _No precogs here that we can see. Just contractors. Plus hostages._

 _What about Max?_

 _She disconnected, let me…_

* * *

 **Max** interrupted Sophie as she worked to untie them. _Hey guys - sorry - I dropped off. It's been a long night. Got carried away with all the jumps._

 _What happened, doll?_

 _You're gonna love this, Chlo - some sort of giant-ass gravity thing. Tried to stick me to it, then hit me with liquid nitrogen and some other stuff._

 _Gravity generator? For reals? I wanna see?_

 _Figured. Left it in one piece for you._

 _You're so my favorite minion right now! And, uh, how hard did that little plan not go their way? Did you play at all?_

 _Heh. I try. And it went 'bout like you'd expect. Everybody's packaged up here, but none the worse for wear. Anyway, this machine thing is massive. It goes down a long way underground beneath the warehouse, but there's other parts that go out for a few miles in every direction. Like six particle accelerators all crossing here, but not that, exactly._

 _Can't wait. Bike's toast, so I could use a lift? Precog assholes left a bomb for me._

 _Rude._

 _I know, right?_

 _You're okay though?_

 _Only a bomb._

 _K. Be there in a couple of minutes…_

 _Cool. I'll be here, chillin' by a fire…_

 _Max, quickly, did you find Marietta and Nessa there at the warehouse? Are they safe?_

 _Yep. I'm with 'em now, Soph. Little one's untouched, but they're both pretty shaken._

Max untied Marietta first. Together, they released Nessa. Mother and daughter both locked into a desperate hug. She gave them a moment. "It's over now. We can walk right out whenever you're ready. They can't hurt you."

"Thank you. I…gracias. …don't know…what we would have done." Marietta stood, lifting Nessa with her. The girl buried her face in her mother's neck.

Max took the lead, walked out the door, motioning them to follow. Marietta held Nessa close on the way down. Marietta's face and arms were bruised, but she seemed physically okay otherwise. Max walked them down the stairs, out past the bubbled men.

The machine was still on. Wisps of fog pulled to the center of the room. Max walked them around the left side, behind the bad-guy-bubbles, near the wall. Exposing her to their captors again was a risk. She knew this would all be scary and confusing, but she wanted to Marietta to see that the people who took her and her daughter were completely powerless now. Might help with closure. At least a little.

Marietta looked like she wanted to stop, try to understand what she was seeing. Max had seen that before. Confused curiosity at odds with the flight reflex. Max led them outside through the front door. Warmer, but still cold.

 _Need some cleanup here at some point, Sophie. If anyone's around this late?_

 _Personnel won't be a problem tonight, Max. A lot of people saw the feeds, headed in. Ariel already has four of the big ring-drones, two teams of twelve, and a flatbed with shipping containers heading to each of your locations. We assumed, for the prisoners._

 _Thank Ariel for me? Hey - if I send you a mental image of the shape of this machine and the ring system, do you think you guys could overlay that on a city grid, and maybe Ariel could muster up a couple of additional teams to investigate and secure a few spots? I think there are some control centers along the ring paths, probably hidden in normal looking buildings. They weren't doing any of that from here, and the guy in charge was giving orders to remote crews. Might be able to pick up some stragglers if we're quick?_

 _Send me the image now, Max. Or maybe Chloe can see too, do the overlay in her head? Just give us the addresses? That way we can put it right up on screen and get going without waiting for my drawing skills to improve? We'll be in our own control room within half an hour probably._

 _K. Hang on. Sophie - Ariel's on 14 tonight? I'm gonna bring these two back first - have a med team meet us in The Terrarium? Flip it to daylight? And probably need some blankets, light food and juices as well - no idea how long it's been since they've eaten. Trauma counsellor might be helpful too - telepathic or bilingual if possible? Chlo - I'll grab you real quick on the way back and we'll meet the cleanup teams back here._

 _Sure. Done._

K, Max.

Max walked them clear of the building. "If it's okay with you, I'd like to take you both somewhere warm and safe? A medical team and food are waiting? Is that okay?"

Marietta nodded.

 _Still in shock._ "Okay. This might be disorienting. But I promise it's perfectly safe. Fastest way…" The desert night was gone, replaced with artificial sunlight, warm grass, bubbling waterfalls, calm pools with brilliantly colored fish, and an expanse of indoor forest stretching the final third of the way to the outermost wall of the wing. A red squirrel ran up a tree as they appeared, looked cautiously back. Nessa's eyes went wide. _More amazement than fear. That's good. She'll bounce back okay._

A medical team walked across the lawn toward them. Halfway point.

Marietta sat down on the grass, still holding Nessa. Looked up at Max, tears welling. She said quietly, "Eres un ángel." As if that was all the explanation she'd ever need to make perfect sense of this night. She nodded once, before returning her attention to her daughter.

Max mouthed a 'thank you' to the med staff as they approached and knelt to offer aid. She backed away, turned.

 _John, Tyrell - you guys good there?_

 _Yep._

 _Yeah, we've got this. Do your thing._

Max gave a last look back, winked at Nessa, vanished.

* * *

 **Chloe** leaned back against the brick wall of the storefront. She gave Sophie the addresses, near as she could tell from Max's weird sense-map. While she waited for Max to arrive, she replayed a detailed reconstruction of the explosion in her head. Built from information taken from a variety of sources, including local cameras, accelerometer data from phones, USGS seismometers at UNLV, a few satellite images, black box from the KTM, and her own drone escorts and personal telemetry. Scrubbed, time-codes synced up.

Dark. Pools of yellow streetlight. Headlights and taillights layering over. It was a last second decision. Saw the moment she committed to the new direction. The tiny wobble. Watched herself take the corner, leaning hard. She slowed the playback, experiencing every angle at once. She stopped the simulation with the first signs of the explosion. The cell signal. Cracks in the roadway leaking light below her. The first milliseconds. Someone was watching her. Triggered the device. From where? She backed out, painted lines of sight from every window of every building, every car. Marked pedestrians who appeared to be on their phones. The data was far from perfect, but it was enough to extrapolate. Maybe narrow the field of possibilities… She removed all of the lines that traced back to empty places.

Stripping out all of the definite negatives left her with four candidate windows and two cars she didn't have a good view into. She marked the exits of each building and the vehicles, ran the simulation forward to the present, looking for signs of movement. In the time after the explosion, people came out of two of the marked buildings. Four people who came out of the first apartment structure went out to the street. Checking their cars, generally trying to see what was happening. Three people who came out of the second did the same. One man followed, went the opposite way. Walked two blocks over. Chloe retrieved more data. Followed the new target to a parked car. Picked up the plate from a traffic cam. Followed his trail forward. Couple of miles away in traffic, but appeared to be heading for Summerlin, on the west side.

Might still be nothing, but she wanted to follow. Tagged. Moved the trace to background. What if she hadn't turned?

 _Sophie? Can you guys get an EOD team from LVPD out here? They'll probably need bots. Have them seal off the area, check under the other streets leading away from that intersection? They're looking for something in the sewer tunnels. A break in the ceiling, something installed above it probably. Or look for wires running out to an exposed antenna. Might be nothing, but there's a chance they had a backup plan._

 _Sure, Chloe. We're on it._

 _Danke._

* * *

 **Max** left the light and grass, arrived in the middle of a street of chaos. Buildings, cars on fire. Crater in the middle of the road. Water shooting out from broken mains, and the slight eggy smell of natural gas. People milled around while sirens approached. Emergency services were slowed by traffic, which backed up as drivers slowed to see what they could. She looked around for a few minutes before finding Chloe.

"You weren't kidding about the whole 'chilling near a fire' thing."

Chloe stood up as Max approached. "Hey. They killed my fucking bike." Pointed to the tangled mass of orange tubes sticking out of an SUV.

"Sorry love… I'd totally rewind to warn you, if there weren't so many other moving parts at the same time…"

"No, no. Hadn't actually crossed my mind."

"Liar." Max smiled.

"Anyway…"

Max looked Chloe over. Hand on one arm, she pulled down at the torn shoulder of her jacket with the other. "So…what happened? You really okay?"

"Me? Psht. I'm fine. Officially irritated at these assholes, but what's new there, right? Came around the corner, and just 'boom'. Something underground back there. Landed over there near the tree"

"Ouch." Max winced.

"Could have been worse."

"If you'd been normal?"

"Splat. Crunch. Probably."

"Unlike."

"Turned off the soreness for now. Between hanging out with you and the nano-repair crew, I'll be good as new in an hour. We're cool." Chloe took Max's arm.

"Well, sorry, Chlo. I know getting blown up sucks. Would it cheer you up at all to play with a giant gravity generator?"

"Dude, is that a real question? Like why are we even still here? …"

Max stopped her. "If you say 'let's plow'…"

Chloe laughed. "You're _still_ giving me shit about that? Come on, that was like _twice_. Weeks ago dude. Besides, you _know_ Duckie rules."

Max laughed, leaned into her, rested her head on Chloe's shoulder as they stepped from the fiery street to the inside of a frosty warehouse across town.

"Woah. Cool."

"You couldn't resist…"

* * *

 **John** looked at his phone. 06:30. Daylight soon. Leaned back in his chair, rubbed his eyes. Contemplated his empty coffee mug.

Ops teams started arriving at the penthouse location around 01:00. He left Tyrell to it, caught a helicopter ride back to HQ. Along with Blanca and Antonio, who were greeted by med staff once they landed. A new ops floor had spun up by then, so he took over for Ariel as lead with the new team. Her field units were waking up, so good timing all around.

From his seat in the command space, middle of the wing, he could see everything in play. Twenty-foot ceilings. Live conference table in the center with an active holo of the city, rings of large displays around him giving drone's eye views, real-time operational info from personnel in the field, comms and other useful details. Everything he needed for theater overview, threat analysis, coordination and decision-making. He liked this configuration. Desks, workstations, conference tables and VR lounges for manual drone control were arranged radially, outward from center. Clustered into group work areas. The glass walls down each side of the wing were currently opaque, doubling as display spaces. Any visuals or info feeds could be thrown up for the room to see as needed.

Even with all the large-scale displays, the bustle, his attention pulled back to the smallest.

Missed texts from Tracey.

 _TW: 12:20am: Where are you? I don't know what just happened._

 _TW: 12:28am: I can't find you. WTF? Did you leave?_

 _TW: 12:56am: WTH are you?!_

 _TW: 1:17am: Call me please? I don't know what to tell anyone. Police. Media. It's a circus._

 _TW: 2:40am: FFS_

 _TW: 3:30am: I'm home. Are you safe at least? Call me._

 _TW: 3:58am: Are you alright?_

 _TW: 4:17am: I don't care if it's late. I can't sleep anyway. Where are you? I'm not mad. Just call? Please? Something?_

Finally, he'd caught a breath, noticed. Sent one back.

 _JM: 4:30am: I'm so sorry. Had to go to work. I'll call you when I can._

 _TW: 4:30am: What do you mean work? How could anything at the office be more important. I was fucking shot, John. A bullet. From a gun. Then I wasn't. And you're at 'the office' at 4:30 on a fucking holiday doing what? Is Ty with you? Are you guys out drinking?_

 _JM: 5:10am: Listen, I'll explain everything later. Promise. Just please, trust me. I didn't just take off on you._

 _TW: 5:10am: You did. Going to sleep. Not sure I can do this._

He hadn't replied yet. Couldn't think of anything to say over an open line that wouldn't make things worse. _Sometimes, doing nothing is a viable action…_

He reviewed the field summary threads, just to give his mind something else to turn over.

 **Penthouse.** _Ops arrived. Forensics team. Tore the place apart. Nothing of significance beyond the rescued hostages. Captured twelve contract operatives. Processing identities in holding, below ground HQ. Staff chasing paper trail on lease, etc. Probably smoke._

 **House.** LVPD sent to Henderson house (Price's original destination). Rental. Empty. Sign of squatters.

 **Warehouse / "The Device".** _Ops arrived. Forensics team. Science team. Caulfield and Price onsite. Captured operatives released from temporal holding into physical custody. New POI captured, James Andersen. Running background. Processing identities of everyone downstairs in holding. Price requested a thousand roach bots. Drone delivered. Massive underground complex, macro-components in surrounding warehouses. Two square blocks appear to be linked below ground, structures above largely facade. Preliminary info suggests Device and area co-construction dates to mid-1950's. Voice cap from Price, while examining The Device below grade: "This is some Fallout lookin' shit, yo." Teams and tech scanning. Couple of laptops found. Encrypted. Site secured. Occupied. Researching provenance, ownership trail. Consider new facilities, legal, to support long-term takeover. Investigating._

 **Energy ring structures.** _Teams dispatched to addresses Price provided. Mostly accurate. Three individuals captured. Processing. Structures, design, tech all seem to support mid-century origins. Old files in designated control 4 location pointed to a seventh address. Team sent. Records storage building of some kind. Begin bag and tag. Might take through the weekend. Transport back to HQ for scanning, analysis._

 **IED site.** _LVPD handling. Second device found under adjacent street. Disarmed. Price tracked suspect to residence in Summerlin. Drones on station, monitoring activity._

 **Hostages.** _All four retrieved without incident. Attended. Observing, repairing overnight in med-wing…_

John's phone buzzed. Tracey.

 _TW: 6:35am: Shit. I shouldn't have said that. Frustrated. Didn't mean it. Sorry. Just…call me when you can? Love you._

* * *

 **Max** caught herself. Eyes sneaking closed. Sleepy. Long night for her, especially with all the jumps. She'd been waiting for them to load up for half an hour. Last thing before she could catch some sleep. Day shift was on the rest, and Chloe went upstairs to crash a few minutes ago.

Sun was up. 8am. Friday, January 1st, 2016.

She'd been here before.

She remembered this morning. From before. In Seattle. Chloe was working two crap jobs; Max was on a winter break from classes. Chloe really wanted to go out for New Year's the night before, so they did. Chloe had enough to drink to be funny without crossing over into ranting or tears. Shitty bar. It was a fun night. A good night. Max dragged them out to Pam's Kitchen for breakfast and coffee early the next morning. Outdoor cafe near their shitty apartment. Home away from home. That was the morning they met Emo. Or rather, saved Emo…

Max's eyes shot open. "Oh! Fuck!"

She jumped up, folded herself to the sidewalk in front of Pam's in Seattle.

Turned, looked out over the street.

She'd arrived too late.

"Seven left. I'm coming baby. Oh my god…" She spun the universe backward, watching. Looking for the moments before the car hit him. _There!_ The first time, they were eating. Chloe watched, horrified. Max had to play rewind frogger with traffic to get out to him at all. A few seconds at a time. It was awful. This time, she held the world in a freeze with barely a thought. Walked out around the cars, knelt down. Released time and picked up his fuzzy little body for the first time again. Little claws clinging to her shirt like she was a screen door. Those blue eyes. His tiny cry. "I'm here." She smiled. A tear started to fall toward him.

Folded back to their bedroom in Vegas. Sat down with him on the bed. The adrenaline surge finally faded away. It was a complete accident that she'd remembered at all. How had she been so careless? She lay back on the bed, he clambered up toward her chest. She scratched his head between the ears like he always loved. _Awww. Our little buddy…_ He settled down, closed his eyes, purring. Little paws reaching out. So tiny. Just a whisper of black fuzz and blue eyes.

Chloe walked in. Saw Max on the bed. "Hey - thought you were still doing a quick supply run?"

Max looked up, put a finger to her lips in a silent 'shhhhhh'…

Emo stretched. Yawned.

Chloe's eyes went wide as the memory clicked, her hand went to her mouth. She knelt onto the bed next to Max, "is that…"

Max nodded, eyes smiling.

"Oh my god… How?"

"I almost missed him. Got so fucking lucky, Chlo."

"I totally remember! Her memories, but yeah. Holy shit - he's so goddamn adorable! Can I hold him?"

Max laughed, "Yeah. We got him. Um. Here - I had to spin back a little to catch him, and I still need to do that run in a few minutes. Watch him? I'll bring back some food in like half an hour?"

Chloe fell over softly next to Max, reached over and pulled Emo to her. "Hey there lil dude…"

Max shook her head. The cute of Emo attacking Chloe's fingers again was almost too much. "I'll be right back. You two behave."

"No promises."

Max gave them both a kiss. Vanished.

* * *

 **Chloe** moved her hand under the blanket. Emo pounced, tail twitching, eyes wide. Listening for the next sound, waiting to feel the next movement.

She remembered how in love they were with this ridiculous little bit of fluff.

How heartbroken they were when he died from kidney failure after only seven years.

She held that thought in her head for a few minutes too long.

"Not this time…" Chloe moved her hand out from under the blanket. He pounced again. She rubbed his nose with the tip of her index finger. He closed his eyes, gave her kisses. Like he always did. She released half a dozen microscopic repair bots through a pore in her fingertip. They went for a sandpaper ride. They'd take up residence in him. Build more of themselves over time. Keep him healthy.

* * *

 **Max** appeared downstairs in the loading room. The lowest extension of the parking garage, under C-wing. Fifteen shipping containers in numbered spaces. She AirMax'd the blue metal boxes from place to place a couple of times a week. Supplies, personnel. Rarely prisoners. Two containers this morning. Special run. One held the contractors and others captured last night, secured, blindfolded. The other container was half filled with supplies and records, leaving the other half empty for additional support staff. They'd help manage the influx.

Once they reached their destination, the prisoners would be processed, scanned for intel, intention. And over a period of a week or two, Margaret and teams of others would interview and evaluate them. Physical, emotional, psychological - running precognitive and telepathic evals in parallel. Deep files generated for everyone.

Goal was to screen out and separate the ones who could be safely released. So far, that had been all of them. Well, most. Some who committed real crimes had been turned over to law enforcement. But no torture, no mistreatment, no hostility. Most were wrong choice of employer and mission. Wrong career for this changing world. This stopover was used as a realignment opportunity. They'd be released with a stern warning to embrace a more universally beneficial career. And monitored for life, of course. And through shells, they'd found ways to follow up inconspicuously, help with retraining, education, and alternative job placement and so on. Designed to feel like the normal opportunities and shifts that happen in life. Behind the scenes. No connection to them.

Some, a narrow few, would be recruited to MCCP. But only after the strictest sort of testing, background research, deep analysis. Had to know them better than they knew themselves. Only a few had passed.

They had facilities for more permanent retention, but hadn't needed them. She had a feeling with James Andersen though. He wasn't ex-military. Wasn't a contractor. Might even be their first capture of someone above street level. Margaret would give her the rundown on the next visit. For now, her job was simply to move them. _Then - upstairs cuddle-party._

Doors closed with a clang and squeak. 8:15. Max double checked destinations on the boxes against the ground marks, and got a verbal confirmation from the duty chief. She knew where they were going. But mistakes would be mistakes. This was a triple-check for her, more than anything.

Area cleared, she folded herself and the containers to a large hemispherical room, forty feet across. The floor was concrete. The walls were bumpy but smooth. Painted bright white. A ring of light bars circled the room six feet from the floor. A single perfectly round tunnel led out to one side. Three containers stood empty on the far side of the room. Normally, she'd bring them back. Trash, returning shift personnel, whatever. They had no direct communication with the site, so no one was expecting her until Tuesday. She opened the container with staff and supplies. They filtered out, started the process of unloading.

She took a quick walk down the corridor, a left, then a right. She knew the tunnels. Chloe might have designed them, and engineers might have guided Max with lasers and projected marks, but she built them herself. Carved straight out of the raw rock with frozen bubbles. Rooms were mostly large spheres, with storage levels below the equator. Spheres were separated top and bottom with flooring of steel and concrete. Long corridors joined everything. These spaces went together pretty quick. Once she carved, teams followed behind with spray-on seals, paint, floor and divider infrastructures, utilities, lighting. Max ran plumbing separate - just smaller tubes carved along the periphery, gravity permitting. The intersections, corridors, and patterns were familiar. Landing pad, living quarters, kitchens, hygiene, and recreation areas were always common elements, always in the same orientation and locations. Made it easy for people to switch between sites. Where they differed was in the configuration or rooms beyond the right fork. Holding. Ark storage. Research. Whatever. Some were minimal in scope. Others vast, and multi-level, depending on their purpose.

Max finally found someone awake in the rec area. Playing Mario Kart. Let him know they had an off-schedule delivery. He'd wake everyone up, handle the rest.

With that, her work was done. Traced her steps back, waved a goodbye to the staff in the landing area. Folded back to the loading space under their tower. Signed off on the move, bounced to the grocery store, then back upstairs to their kitchen. She poured a bowl of soft kibble and another of water. Walked them into the bedroom, set the bowls on the floor.

Chloe was already asleep, kitten upside down and all bunny-paws in the crook of her arm.

Max waved a piece of kibble in front of Emo's nose. A twitch. Eyes open, head up, looking for the smell.

Max picked him up, showed him where the food and water lived. Sat with him on the floor while he ate, rubbing his back. "Hello, old friend…"


	5. Mondays

**Chloe** gently lifted a tangle of hair from Max's face, tucked it behind her ear. Early Monday morning. Still dark. Four maybe. The air was cool on the exposed half of Chloe's face. She was still mostly awake. Max was half in, half out. They both played the big spoon, facing each other. Emo curled in a ball between them under the covers, quietly purring. _Obnoxious little fuzzball._

"…hey…" Max sighed. Stretched a little without moving.

Chloe pushed her lips into Max's forehead. Whispered quietly into her skin, "still have another hour or two…"

"…yay…" a quiet little cheer. "…should we let him sleep?"

"…now that it's almost morning and he's finally stopped using us as a racetrack?"

"…forgot how much energy he had when he was little…"

"…we need to wear him out better during the day."

"…so sweet when he's sleeping though…" Max ran her fingers lightly through Chloe's hair. "…two hours?"

Chloe turned her head, kissed Max's wrist. "…uh huh."

"k…"

Max closed her eyes, snuggled into her pillow. Chloe did the same, careful of Emo. _World's cutest little asshole…_

* * *

 **Tracey** put her car in park, turned off the engine. She went to flip the roof up, caught herself. Winter. Hadn't put it down. This had been her world since last Thursday night. Scattered. Trouble focusing for more than a few minutes at a time. Too much, too weird, and she didn't have an altogether confident grasp of what had really happened to her.

Sitting at home streaming the news hadn't helped. They didn't have much insight. She stopped paying attention to her social streams completely. Too many reporters and bloggers pinging her for comments. Thousands of new followers, for what? Why was she suddenly more interesting? The attention made her feel even more isolated. She ignored the calls from home. She knew she'd have to return them tonight though. Last thing she wanted was for her parents to send private investigators knocking after her again.

It was just another grey morning outside the windscreen.

Reminded her of home.

But…not the good parts.

She wasn't ready to get out of her car yet. Sat quietly, held her coffee without drinking. Warm. Glanced at herself in the rear view, but looked away as quickly. She couldn't shake the feeling that walking in would be something of a point of no return. Change things she couldn't change back. She'd give almost anything to forget. Go back to the way things were between them. Easy. Light.

 _Could still drive away…_

But…she'd been shot. She knew she had? Along with so many others. Right? She remembered the shock. Not the pain, but the fall. Then the sunlight and the fury. Some sort of bright something Chloe did. Blinding them, maybe? Tracey couldn't see anything afterwards. Not for a while. The pain came later. In stillness, waiting for medics. Then Chloe was back again, all calm and talking and nonsense, and the pain was just…gone. There was blood, but… She'd spent hours over the weekend staring at her leg. Eyes close to her skin. Back to the mirror. Then with her phone's camera. Feeling for the place it must have been, but she was already losing track. Was it there? Or there? Without that reality written forever into her skin, it was like it never happened. But she knew it had. _Hadn't it?_

John promised answers, but hadn't delivered. He'd worked through the entire weekend. And while he didn't completely ignore her… _No, he did. He completely ignored me. He…left me behind. Then by myself for days to sort it out on my own. Or not._

Yes, his bosses had nearly been shot. But what could he do about it after the fact? What the seven hells was he even doing all weekend? He wasn't a cop. She was the one who'd been hurt. No attention. She expected more from him. He'd texted her later that morning. Compulsory contact, but without feeling.

She finally saw him again. Briefly, on Sunday afternoon. But it was just awkward. Eyes failing to connect. He pushed her questions to Monday. She couldn't press, and he wouldn't say more. They couldn't pretend either. Just…stuck.

 _He still hasn't come back for me. Not in the ways that matter._

 _So this is me now, going out to find him…_

Monday morning. Looking for answers to questions she didn't want to have. She knew she was right about the point of no return. And that walking in that door was either a way back to what they were, or…a way apart…

 _Complete fucking disaster of a party, though._

 _That'll look good on the old resume'…_

 _There._

 _There she is._

 _There's your inner arsehole…_

 _Time. Get on with it._

* * *

 **Chloe** rode the elevator down to the twentieth floor, caught the turn to C-wing. Cafeteria. She could have made breakfast and coffee upstairs. But by the time she woke up, Max was already out and gone.

Calling this a 'cafeteria' was an injustice. Or maybe part of the joke. It was nearly four-star dining, with chefs recruited from top restaurants in the city and beyond. Bright and clean. Six permanent mini-restaurants on the floor represented a variety of cuisine styles, and four additional showcase kitchens were set aside for guest brands or teams, rotating in and out every couple of months. The best food-truck crews, the hot new restaurants in town. A former street food vendor from Kashgar, China, randomly… Max liked their soup dumplings. Open to everyone who worked here. People had their favorites to choose from, and the rotation brought variety.

Chloe's favorite was predictable. Old school. Diner style, back right. Never as good as mom's, but that was a high bar, filtered through a layer of nostalgia. Breakfast was on the menu all day and night, and the pancakes and waffles were always delicious.

All venues took electronic orders, and Chloe dropped hers by text before getting dressed that morning. She caught the eye of the waiter, nodded a greeting, took her usual booth by the window.

Seating was everywhere. Booths, tables, lounges. Chloe suspected that on any given day, more problems were solved on this floor than anywhere else in the building. It was a popular space for informal work-sessions. Meant the kitchen and wait staff all had to be cleared, of course. Might overhear something. So they had backgrounds run, NDAs, frequent telepathic scans, the usual. Aside from the chefs, most of the cafeteria staff were family members of employees. Kept things simple.

She looked around. _Packed as ever._

Everyone here knew them by sight, of course. And Chloe knew all of them back, in detail. Max had to work at it, but she made it a point of pride to give a solid effort. At least some of their names. And when she got one wrong, she had her own ways to recover. They could always tell the new people though. Stood out. They were usually the ones casting excited, nervous glances. The old timers would give a low key nod or a smile, or ignore them. Whatever. It was just breakfast. The novelty of seeing them wore off for everyone after a couple of days.

But the mood this morning was different. Quieter. Not just the back-to-work after the holidays kind of quiet, although that would be part of it. The news cycle around the attack accelerated over the weekend. International attention. Social media and mainstream news referenced and amplified each other's content, feeding back an increasingly noisy loop of non-information. Talking heads debated the pros and cons of hunting for the identity of the brave little girl, a minor. Speculated about the guest list, the targets, motives, ties to terrorism.

No mentions of her or Max, thankfully. There had been hundreds of photos taken by others at the scene that captured one or more of their team in the background. Maybe a two dozen that included Alena more clearly than she appeared in the video of the attack, looping endlessly this past weekend. Took Chloe a few minutes to scrub them from all of the pictures that night, before they left. Mental Photoshop. Photos ended up the same. Just…missing a few people who used to be there in some cases.

Some of the noise over the weekend focused on the bright light in the video. The one the gunmen were shown firing into. Hive mind assumed it was some sort of personal defense flashlight tool someone used. Others said it was just a miracle that no one was seriously injured, given the number of shots fired. But a smaller few talked of literal miracles. Conspiracy rumors online blending magic and black helicopters. Everyone tore into the backgrounds of the shooters, while some turned conspiracy theories they'd been programmed, hacked or coerced. Frame-grabs became memes. Wildfire.

But inside these walls, the news was reality based - if no less weird. So the buzz tracked with the facts. The speculation was about what came next. Or before, depending on how it was handled. This one was big. City was off limits, but they hit home anyway. Broke the rules. The glances and nods Chloe felt this morning were from a place of solidarity.

 _Comforting in some ways, but…_

The waiter brought out her plate of waffles, bacon, eggs and a cup of black coffee. While she ate, part of her scanned the previous night's recordings, caught up on global news, social, scanned mission reports, briefings and the portion of captured documents that had been converted from paper to digital so far. Half or so. A fraction of what she wanted to know going into the 10am meeting. But Max would have more for her before then.

She buzzed Emo with a hummingbird drone while she worked and ate. Needed to wake his furry little butt up. If she could keep him busy chasing the drone all day, or maybe its targeting laser at least, there was a chance they'd get some sleep tonight.

Waiter refreshed her coffee on the way to somewhere else. She was feeling pretty tired, and a bit jealous of Max; she could nap whenever the hell she wanted. Rewind the time away after. _Just for one day, if we could trade places… Maybe just a quick nap before lunch? Check in on Emo for half an hour. Down at his level? With a pillow?_

Without warning, John plopped down on the opposite side of the booth, scooted over with a vinyl squeak. Hector dropped in beside him without a sound. Gave Chloe a head nod and a smile, flipped the hair back out of his eyes.

"Been a while, John."

"Almost hours." He picked up a menu, gestured to the empty space next to Chlo. "Max testing adaptive camo again?"

"Heh. You wish... No, she's offsite. And uh, Hector! My man! Welcome back, dude. How was Mexico City? Family?" Gave him an over the table fist bump. He exploded it.

"All good… Thanks again for signing that photobomb."

"Hope she liked it."

"Photobomb?" John asked, looking over the top of his menu.

Chloe threw a small holo of the photo into the air over the table. Desk-selfie of Hector, Chloe flipping off the camera with both hands behind him, off in the background, slightly out of focus. "For his little sister."

"Fangirl." added Hector.

"Ah. Got it."

"Speaking of…" said Chloe. "What's up with _your_ fangirl, Michaels?"

"Guess we'll find out later if I can still call her that?"

"Saw her on the orientation list… You giving the tour?"

"I've got work. Sophie volunteered first shift. Was hoping you guys might have a little time late afternoon for us? Just hang out, let her get the questions out of her system? Maybe take her first impressions beyond the strictly theoretical, if it's not too much trouble?"

"Should be cool. I'll give Max a heads-up once she's back."

"Margaret?"

"Yeah - after practice this morning she was gonna check in. Update on our friends, before the huddle."

Hector looked a little lost. _Still playing catchup after weeks back home._ "Fill you in later, Hector. Margaret has a new collection of bad guy boy-toys. So Max is hopefully bringing back some intel for us…"

He nodded. "Right. Caught the news. Also heard a rumor you guys found some new toys? Including a furry one?"

"I'm pretty sure _we're_ the toys for the furry one. But yeah. Old friend from another timeline. You should come by later too. I'm sure he'll be tearing around. You could say hi, help wear him out. _Please?_ He for real needs wearing out. John, can you, uh, fill him in on the rest?"

"Will do."

"Cool. Anyway, gotta bounce. Welcome back, dude. Catch you in a few, Michaels."

Their food arrived as she got up to leave.

Hector switched sides.

* * *

 **Tracey** looked at the greying man across the table. Windowless office off the main lobby. "Do I need legal counsel?"

"Up to you Miss Wells. You're obviously welcome to review the terms with your advisors if you'd like. But these are pretty standard. Nondisclosure. Indemnification… Everyone signs. Or not. But for you to go beyond the ground floor, we'll need to have signed copies on file. It's a formality, but a strict one."

"But I've been to the penthouse. Guest of the founders?"

"I understand. I'm afraid this is different. That was the express elevator from the garage."

"So if I don't sign, or if I'd like my lawyers to go over these first, I don't get in today?"

"That's correct. Unless your people can review and advise quickly, of course. But you should understand - there's not an opportunity to edit these documents. You can sign or not. But the terms are set. We'll still be here. It's really not a problem if you'd like to reschedule."

 _No. It's probably a problem._

 _Screw it._

"Where do I scribble?"

* * *

 **Sophie** made a quick note in her calendar. She and John agreed they should send Tracey through the same orientation that all new employees go through. An orchestrated experience designed to accomplish exactly what they intended for her.

There was psychology behind the staging. Applied learning theory. Information processing. Pacing. Context. Refined over the tens of thousands of people who'd gone through it. Each session was a little unique, a reflection of the specifics of the people in the room, how they might play off each other. Designed to feel interactive, mostly spontaneous. The purpose was partly to educate, orient and inspire about MCCP and its progress against their shared public mission. And partly to get past some of the strange shit behind the curtain without completely freaking them out.

Chloe referred to it as the Art of Boiling the Frog.

Max always made that face when she said it.

The founding mythology wasn't part of the program. That usually came from peers, over time. A screen cap. A link.

Sometimes third or fourth-hand stories over shots.

Tracey would get that later, firsthand.

 _Probably over shots._

Sophie got word that she was waiting in the lobby, NDAs signed.

She'd head down in a minute to escort her down to the room.

It was a slow day - there were only five new hires going through the program with her.

* * *

 **Tracey** played with her new badge as she walked through the lobby. A yellow lanyard with 'Guest' printed on it hung around her neck. She turned it over in her hands. Plastic, with her name, photo, and other details. _Escort Required_ , it said. Security holograms. Heavier than she expected.

In past visits, she'd come up through the parking garage with John on the way to the penthouse for dinner or whatever. This was her first time waiting in the lobby. It was nice. Expensive. Like a luxury transit hub.

She noticed the little details. Thickness of the doors when she first entered. Glass. Heavy, but well balanced. The kind of high-security precision construction usually reserved for protection of small, precious spaces, or for the secure display of national artifacts or rare art. Applied here on a grand scale to something as mundane as the front door to an office building. She wondered at what she couldn't see. _This really must have cost a bloody fortune to build._

She headed for an empty seating area near the perimeter on the opposite side.

The lobby itself was minimal. Spanned the entire ground floor of the cylindrical hub of the building. Hundred meters in diameter. Entrances on three sides. The thick walls of glass brought the outside in. A transitional space. Beautiful though. Designers were obviously inspired by an elegant sort of futurism. Clean, white gloss and glass surfaces everywhere. But organic. Not cold. Natural materials. Dark river rocks arranged tastefully around the circumference. Horsetail reeds in planters, neatly trimmed. Ceiling was thirty feet above them. Low but comfortable furniture. Coffee shop at the entrance to one of the wings, for waiting guests, just beyond the featureless door where she'd probably signed her life away minutes before.

In the very center of the lobby space stood the structural core, thirty meters or so across. Three inset elevator doors faced out across the lobby toward each wing. Between the three sets of elevator banks, three long reception desks followed the long curve of the wall. She could see the pattern as she passed through it. Like a series of nested rings. From the outer glass to the seating arrangements to the reception desks to the core wall… Although 'wall' might not be the right word exactly. Now that she'd seen it from all sides.

She couldn't tell if the whole thing was a print, or video screen, or maybe a projection. Bright. Sharp. But had depth. Filled with an enormous image of the earth, seen from above, looking out to the horizon. Blues and browns and greens beneath a swirling blue white, catching the edges of blue atmosphere before curving away into itself. Wrapping around the entire heart of the building. For some reason, seeing Earth at this scale made it all feel much smaller to her. And the space much larger.

 _Everything that's ever happened to any of us ever took place on that finite stage…_

Took her a moment to realize it was moving.

 _Wait… is this…?_

She recognized Sophie, walking toward her from one of the elevators.

"Morning, Tracey. Are you ready for your day with us?"

Tracey gave her an air kiss on each cheek in greeting. "Tell me I'm not losing my mind, dear? That I'm not going to regret meeting him?"

Sophie led her to the elevator. "You're not losing your mind."

"…Deft."

"Only you can answer the second part. And only in time."

"If I might ask, what is it that you do here again?"

"More than I ever imagined." The doors opened as they approached.

Tracey noticed. "You're not wearing a badge?"

"The building knows who I am. Minus three, please."

The doors closed, and the numbers above counted down as they dropped.

* * *

 **Chloe** looked up right as Max pushed open the door to The Fishbowl. _For once, I'm not the one who's late._ Chloe, patted the chair next to her. "Hey. Saved your seat. Michaels has been eyeballing it - sooooo…good thing you showed up."

Max stuck her tongue out at Chloe. Waved at the others. "Hey everybody. Sorry. Got tied up. I could come back a few minutes earlier if that's better?"

"It's cool. We were mostly catching up on everyone's break. Through last Friday, anyway…" Chloe said.

"M'kay. Oh, here, Chlo. Present." Max plopped down next to her, held out a closed hand.

Chloe caught the small block of transparent crystal as it fell. Half the size of a sugar cube. It glowed softly blue as she held it between her thumb and forefinger, reading its contents. "How's Margaret?"

"She's good. Said to pass along her hellos to everyone. And the files, obviously."

"Learn anything?" Chloe already had more than Max could have taken away from a conversation. She set the crystal down, activating the table's holo UI around it. Gracefully tapped the ring of icons in the air, pushed the data out to the network where others could use it.

"Few things. Still some big gaps. We'll get to it. Um, everybody coffee'd up and stuff? Should we jump right in?"

John was to their left, representing direct ops. Parker, the science team lead assigned to The Device, was next to him. Jeremy, their COO, sat across; he was the real day to day business operations guy, working with legal, finance, and the nuts and bolts of running a complex company of this scale and ambition. Jillian, their CMO, stationed to their right. Managed the teams responsible for marketing, communications, public profile. Sophie would also be along shortly. Talent perspective, but also welcome in any meeting on her own merits. Half the time, one or another department heads, remote office leads or project runners would pop in by holo. Sophie added Jillian to the list this week. Last minute. It was a good call with the public dimension, but she seemed a little flustered to Chloe.

A moment later, she confirmed it. "I feel like I have to apologize. I'm not especially prepared. I only just caught the calendar invite, and didn't see any kind of agenda attached? Wasn't sure what I should bring along, or…?"

John and Jeremy both chuckled.

Chloe shook her head, let her off the hook. "Yeah, don't…don't sweat it. Not that kinda meeting."

"This your first time?" asked Max.

"Once before, about a week after I first came on. Was still working on getting my bearings. I'm honored to be included again though… I know the early Monday sessions can be pretty exclusive."

"Heh. It's okay. And…I don't really know if 'exclusive' is the right word. We mostly don't want to waste everyone else's time." said Max with a smile.

"Just ours." said John, chomping on a smuggled apple tart.

"What she's trying to say is the ratio of deliverables to fucking around is pretty highly skewed in the 'fucking around' direction…" added Chloe, sipping her coffee. "I mean, it's me and Michaels in the same room. How much work could really get done?" she shrugged. John nodded.

"We started these…well, they were supposed to be an informal catch up originally, but they usually devolve into an hour of goofing around. And every great once in a while, a decent idea happens. Mostly by accident. This is the first one in a while where we have something real to catch up on." said Max.

"Oh. Well, that makes me feel better. Thanks. I assumed it was related to last week, but didn't know what was expected of me."

"Yeah, no book reports or anything. Just wanted your brains in the room." said Chloe, looking to Parker as well.

They were downplaying it a bit to put Jillian and Parker at ease.

It was true that these sessions weren't super formal. Jeremy had his own staff meeting right after for that. Chloe had every business detail at the periphery of her mind already anyway - and she could probably run the whole show from the core if she was ever motivated to do so. But she preferred to stay focused on more interesting problems. They weren't bureaucrats by nature. It's why they had a COO. It's why they had competent department heads - who were expected to work most things out among themselves.

Hierarchy wasn't a thing anyway. The mission was the focus and motivator for everyone, and their people were expected to be self-winding, use good judgement, work together, and alert if there were issues they couldn't solve. Best way to scale to the critical mass necessary. Max and Chloe would play tiebreakers when needed, but they mostly left experts free to expert, with peer transparency as the main check and balance. Worked well enough last loop.

As a result, most of Max & Chloe's time was their own. Or at least, unstructured.

This was their one regular time on Jeremy's calendar to gather for whatever needed gathering about. Moving things forward, new challenges, or…things that might be stuck. Making plans. Crazy ideas. There was a decent amount of fucking around too, truth be told. Sometimes pancakes… Helped them sort the tension between what was possible and what should be. Fluid agenda. Rotating cast of characters. A time where they could sort priorities and direction beyond the day to day. Or when there was something pressing that needed a sharp focus outside of an ops floor or lab. Like today.

Max continued, "So first things I guess… Anyone have anything interesting going on this week?"

A few laughs.

"Right. Let's jump in. I know you guys have a hard stop. Chloe? I think you have the talking stick?"

She nodded. Chloe often ran these when they had a real topic. Which made sense, given her…unique perspective.

They relied on so many others to help make everything go, here and around the world. People, systems, machines. And everything about everything ended up somewhere in the computational and storage core of MCCP.

It was hers, and no one could see it in quite the same way.

Chloe grew the first core in a six-inch spherical hollow at the center of a nearby mountain, using a microscopic part of herself as the initial seed. For all its power, it remained a tiny thing, maybe the size of a soda can. At least, on the outside. It would continue to fill the cavity before growing into the surrounding rock, expanding inward and outward as needed, protected by thousands of feet of solid material on all sides. Information flowed along billions of microscopic filaments radiating away, woven through the rocks and out under the desert floors. They grew, divided, built more of themselves, insinuated into data lines, backbones, trunks, fiber, anything with a signal along the way.

The entire spectrum was fair game, as the definitions of wired and wireless blurred. The ground itself became carrier, insulator, and intelligent antenna for the core. Linked with trillions of microscopic counterparts above, carried along by the wind. Amorphous. Invisible. Mostly inactive for now. As an extension of Chloe's own augmented design, the core was as much a part of her ambient consciousness as her own body. At least while she was linked. On Earth, in range.

She was decades away from potentially experiencing the whole of the planet in real-time though. Ten more seeds had been planted around the world over the past six months. But they needed time to grow. Reach out. Connect to each other directly. Still unsure if she wanted to make the final leap with her own biology that would be necessary. She had time. Which was the running joke between them.

It took effort to pay attention to all of it at once. The stored information. Data streams. Sort signal from noise. Notice the exceptions, the patterns. Edit and select what was important for the teams to see.

She didn't mind the occasional role of meeting runner. It was an excuse to dive in. The feeling, even this early, was astonishing. Sometimes she'd get lost in the moment. Thinking, being, perceiving so much faster than her body or the world outside could possibly move. There were limits to how long she could stay before she started missing Max though.

She forced herself to re-focus on the present. To slow down. A holo came to life above the conference table. "Okay, here's a quick reconstruction of events so we're all starting from the same place…"

She absently flew past Emo, just out of reach, dancing with him into the living room upstairs…

* * *

 **Tracey** had only just said goodbye to Sophie, entered the room when the man walked in behind her and closed the door. Unassuming. Looked rather like an accountant from a past era. White shirt, black tie.

He took his place at the front of the room. "Hi everyone. Please…take a seat. My name is Hank Larsen. I'll be facilitating your orientation session this morning. Thank you. Please.

"Great. So before we begin, I'd just like to welcome all of you. You've all chosen to be here. We've chosen to have you. So...good judgement all around I hope. You should feel as honored to be here as we are that you've joined us.

"But I confess that we haven't been completely forthcoming. We haven't been untruthful, and none of you were brought in under false pretenses.

"But we haven't told you everything either. Makes sense, right? Expected that there'd be a secret or two. You came here expecting to learn things. Expecting to participate in some small way in changing the future. Some of you may even believe that you're here to help save the world. Or understand it. Advance quality of life. What have you.

"You have no idea how literally true all of that is.

"You've all signed contracts, Non-disclosure agreements. Probably longer than you're used to. Scarier language maybe. I don't need to say anything about that. You'll understand why before you leave here today. And I think you'll agree.

"But enough of my artfully vague preamble. Let's quickly go around the room. Introduce yourselves. I have no idea what to call you right now. Say a little about what areas you play in? Let's start with you."

He pointed at the balding man near the front.

"Uh, okay. Um. Hello everyone." He turned around half-way over his chair back. "My name is Davide Duboque. I'm a physicist with a background in high energy research. I was referred in by a colleague who has been here for nearly a year now. We worked together in Canada before then, studying WIMPs."

A few in the room chuckled. Shrugged.

He continued, "I'm sorry, I did not mean to be funny. I don't know, maybe not everyone here is a physicist?" He looked over his glasses. "WIMPs are weakly interacting massive particles. Candidates for dark matter. Very tricky to detect. I'm here to continue this research."

"Great, thank you Davide. You next?" He motioned to a woman sitting a row back.

"Hi y'all. Thank you. My name is Mary Walker. I'm a geneticist. I work with food crops mostly. Wheat. Corn. Figure out how to modify genes to hopefully make them better for us. Things like increased disease resistance, pest resistance, draught tolerance, and improved vitamin load. Not a lot of cosmic significance, but I'd like to see if we might help farmers on difficult land become self-sustaining."

"What brought you here to us, Ms. Walker?" Hank asked.

"Mrs. 22 years now. Um, I left my last job after they patented a few of my splices, then locked them away. Killed a paper and a talk I'd worked hard on. Said they were trying to protect the research, but they were more interested in preventing anyone from seeing it. I took a chance, applied here after I read an article about those little reactors. How y'all were open-licensing them to anyone for a dollar? Thought it might be a better fit."

"Thank you. I hope so too. You miss? Mrs.? I don't want to get myself in trouble now." He smiled, pointed to Tracey.

"Oh, sorry. I'm not actually an employee. Do you still want me to…?"

"Yes. Please." He gave a shrug and a flat smile. "It would just be awkward to call you 'hey lady' all day."

"Right. Sorry. My name is Tracey Wells. Spoiled the secret already, but I'm not an employee."

"And what do you do for a living elsewhere?"

"I'm an art historian, specializing in ancient cultural artifacts. I'm currently on contract with a number of auction houses in the US and abroad, and resident at the Metropolitan Art Museum here in the city for the past two years."

Hank paused. "I'm sorry Miss Wells. I didn't put it together. You were there, weren't you? It was your…shindig…they were at?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Wow. So you've hung out with them. _Were_ …hanging out with them. Socially. In person. You were okay? After I mean?"

Tracey took a chance. She was here for answers, after all. "Well, I was shot in the leg, but now I'm apparently not." A few of the others looked her way.

Hank nodded, put his hand out. "We'll come back to that. I understand why you're here now. I'm sorry - it's… first day back. You were just added this morning. You'll find some of this interesting I think." He motioned behind Tracey, large man. "What about you sir? Yes."

"Hi everyone. I'm Todd. Smith. I was recruited off my team by an old CO."

"SEAL? Navy?"

"That's correct, sir."

"Welcome. They don't know it yet, but everyone in this room will be glad you're onboard at some point." Hank nodded graciously. "And you next?" He pointed to the woman next to Todd.

"Hey. Michelle Washington. Just graduated. MIT. Electrical engineering. Robotic vision. I uh… haven't done anything real yet. Sorry."

"Don't sell yourself short. If you hadn't, you wouldn't be here. Welcome. And you?" Hank motioned to the last man.

"Hello. Uh. Don O'Connell. NYPD detective. Well, former I guess. Have a…thing for patterns. Numbers. Audits and accounting. Worked white collar crime for the past ten years. And given present company, maybe I'm not so sure how I fit into all of this now?"

Hank leaned back against the whiteboard. "I am. You will. That's actually a good segue though. We didn't plan this, folks. But yes - you might have noticed that not everyone fits the same mold. We're not a normal company. Or a normal anything, really. We do have a lot of multi-disciplinary teams. Sorry, you have a question Mrs. Walker?"

She was clearly agitated. Glanced at the two men toward the back before turning to face Hank. "The mix of academics, I understand. Genetics. Physics. Robotics. These make sense in a diversified applied sciences company…"

"Thank you."

"But the only reason you match those kinds of fields with military and police, no offense, is if you're conducting government weapons research and development. Drones. Energy stuff. Bio-warfare. I didn't sign up for any of that."

"Mrs. Walker, I can assure you that we are many things. But we're not a government weapons research organization. We have weapons. A lot of them, in fact. Mostly non-lethal. We have drones. But you can buy those in department stores now. And we do have a fair number of ex-military and law enforcement wandering the halls. Our own security services, if you will. But we don't rent them out. We're not interested in waging wars. And we're not interested in geography or culture or religion or anything like that as defining characteristics of friend or foe. We're also not here to preserve the trend line of the status quo. Which has made us unpopular with a few folks out there.

"We're interested in the future. Getting there in one piece. Pulling as many with us as we can, as comfortably as possible. Making sure that our non-human friends stick along for the ride. Plants. Animals. We have that responsibility. You get the idea. So everything we do is in service to that end. Sometimes it can be dangerous work. Takes us to some dark places. In those cases, we like to send backup along. Make sure everyone comes back to the light.

"Look, I can stand here and explain to you all the ways we're not what you're hoping we aren't. But if I might continue, I think it would be more beneficial to show you what we are. It's not what you think. It's never what any of you think. It's not what I thought when I was in that chair right over there." He pointed to the left side. "Like I said in the beginning, we haven't been completely honest with you. Not everyone is a fit. So we keep some things a little close to the vest at the start.

"That stops now. You're all here because you're valued. Vetted. Trusted. There's a lot of work to do, and we think each of you can help. It's why you're here. We really do need your help, by the way. This is an introduction to what we mean by that.

"If I may, I'd like to begin by showing you a short video clip. It was recorded about a year and a half ago. Days after opening the doors to this building, in fact. Just before my time. One of our founders, Max Caulfield, gave a short opening speech to kick off our annual confab. Keynote, I guess. It sets a stage anyway. You'll have questions, but hold them til the end please? I promise we'll get to all of them.

"Lights?"

* * *

 **Max** poured herself a coffee as Chloe wrapped up the replay. "How are the families doing?" she asked.

Sophie, a fellow late arrival, answered. "Everyone is in good physical condition. Marietta and Nessa were picked up by family members and taken home Friday afternoon. Antonio left Saturday with a regrown finger, and Blanca's parents picked her up Saturday as well."

"What kind of shape are they in emotionally, I mean?" Max asked.

"And what are they likely to say to others about their time here?" piped in Jillian.

"They're as expected, with exceptions. And it's unclear right now, Jillian. They're all processing the physical trauma, feelings of helplessness, loss of agency, guilt that they're somehow responsible for the attack, and guilt for the legal situation their loved ones currently face. It's a lot at once. We've connected each of them with therapists who specialize in post-event victim trauma, our retainer, but they've all declined for now."

"And the exceptions?"

"Mixed. Blanca is the one I'm a little concerned about. She doesn't have a great support structure at home. Her brother was her world, and she's feeling deeply responsible for his recent choices. She's somewhat adrift without him. I'll check in on her myself this week. As for Antonio, this isn't the worst he's seen, so he has a certain resilience. Marietta has already moved past their experience, convinced herself this was all the work of God…"

"Well, from a certain perspective…" Chloe winked.

Max sent a lazy smack sideways toward her, rolled her eyes.

Sophie continued. "…still worried for her husband, of course. Their daughter Nessa was spared from anything beyond fear and confusion of the moment. With her mother behaving as usual, she's mostly returned to her childhood norms. That may change as her father's absence becomes more apparent."

"Please, keep an eye on them. Quietly. I'd like us to help if needed." said Max.

"As far as any of them are concerned, we've already done more than they deserved. They don't fully understand why. It's not lost on them that we were the targets in all of this, and still, our first instinct was to come to their aid…"

"Anyone would have…"

"You know that's not true, Max."

"Should be."

Chloe jumped back in. "So…on a related note, we've got a drone sitting on the asshats who killed my motorcycle. And, you know, I guess, blew up a street and stuff. Um. Aside from trips to the store, they haven't done much. PlayStation, mostly. We'll give 'em another couple of days to see if they have useful contact with anyone before handing 'em off to LVPD."

"You don't want us to bring them in? Talk to them yourself?" asked John.

"Won't bring my bike back. And I'd prolly hit one of them. Hard. So… know your boundaries, right?"

"Fair enough." John agreed.

Max swiveled, asked Sophie, "Any word on Alena and her dad? How are they doing?"

"They're okay for now. Keeping a low profile at home. HR is on the hunt for a position for him as of this morning. I'm sure they'll find an excuse to get in touch within a week, get him to come in. We'll keep an eye on that too. I don't know if anyone outside has identified her yet though - Jillian?"

"Not as of this morning. Our folks are tracking the conversations, so if it breaks, we'll send you an alert. Well, not you Chloe, obviously…"

"Thanks - please. And uh, switching topics - here's a fun fact. Margaret was able to learn from the intake scans which _specific_ dickheads were responsible for abusing Marietta, Antonio and Blanca. She called them out in the files. So, yay. That was bugging me."

"Saw that. John, I can work with you to package up all the electronic evidence for the locals and the DA on this. I have the archive of all the shit we pulled last Thursday to find them."

"Perfect. Thanks, Chloe. Just need to stick to their forensic protocols so they can show chain of custody. Any guess on when we'll be turning them over?"

Max answered, "A week maybe? Margaret said she'd need at least that long to take inventory, see if any are holding on to interesting secrets. And make recommendations on which to warn and release, and which should be released directly into custody. Or any she might want to hang onto for longer."

"Okay. If it's alright with everyone, I'd like to give the chief a heads-up that we have these guys, along with any names we have so his people aren't wasting cycles trying to ID or apprehend them. If I do that though, he'll definitely expect something from us next week."

"Fine with me. Any objections? No? Yeah. Sure. Go ahead."

"So what have we learned about these guys in general so far? Or about The Device? That's…what we're calling it, right?" asked John. "What else did Margaret get?"

* * *

 **Tracey** noted that the lights dimmed on their own, like the elevator had responded to Sophie. The wall behind Hank came to life. Recorded video. A small podium on a small stage. Weird edit. Max appeared suddenly behind it. Paused for a moment as though collecting her thoughts.

"…So first, hi everyone. Um. Most of you know, I'm Max Caulfield. I'm the MC in MCCP…"

Tracey watched as Max did her intro. John was there in the audience. Camera panned when she mentioned him. _So he was here at the beginning._ She didn't follow everything Max was saying, missed a few of the references. _She carries herself differently on a stage. More presence than I'd have thought._

"…In the past six months…you and your teammates brought four species back from the edge, while others beside you have saved literally tens of thousands of human lives around the world…"

 _Does she mean that literally?_ Tracey looked at Hank. He nodded, but held his hand out low in a subtle 'wait', while he looked back to the screen. Max went on for a bit more, until a line appeared in the air over her head.

"…This is why I'm here. This end is today, July 10th, 2014. That end is October, 2338. …each of those dots, circles, represents a future historical event. Each pixel is a million dead…"

 _And now for the tabloid alarmism…_

"…We're trying to save ten billion people from extinction."

 _Bringing water to children and clean energy production are worthy activities, but these scare tactics are overplayed…_

Lines, blocks, areas drew in over the timeline.

Green. "Biodiversity…"

Red. "Wars. Global conflicts."

Yellow. "Disease. Bacterial. Viral. Weaponized and natural."

Magenta. "Global temperatures."

Cyan. "Number of people alive on earth…Low point? Ten million souls. Total. Global."

Blue. "Natural disasters."

Purple. "Number of people living beyond earth. That line never rises above ten."

Everything faded, zoomed in to a short white line over her head.

"…This is the past six months. That white line? That's us." The display zoomed out again. "Everything that's not on that white line — that's preventable. Addressable. Solvable. We're the only ones standing between now - and then. _That's_ why we're here."

The video ended. Paused on the final frame as lights came back up. The room was quiet.

Tracey couldn't help but break the silence. "It's all a bit apocalyptic, isn't it?" Max, and presumably Chloe, were clearly young and eccentric. Idealistic. But this tipped off into cult-like territory. _Which…might explain a few things…_

Hank didn't acknowledge the question. Looked out over the new hires with raised eyebrows. Inviting other thoughts.

Mary finally spoke. "As a geneticist, a biologist, I don't think this kind of trending is impossible. I can't speak to wars and disasters or some of the others, but I've seen similar charts on biodiversity loss estimates at least. Not quite that quickly, but the curves were similar… It's been going on for a while now."

Davide added, "I don't know. It makes sense to me. The point isn't the specific numbers anyway. It's all subjective. The point is that on our current path, we go sooner, rather than later. But why not? Everything has a time. Everything dies. Most things that have lived are dead. Why should we be different? We're not special. What? We're not. In astronomy, there's the question of life outside earth. There is a famous equation from the 1960's, maybe not so famous to everyone here, I guess? Made by a man named Frank Drake. You can plug values into it - how many stars, how many planets, how many with liquid water and so on - and in the end, it gives you the number of intelligent civilizations we should be seeing in the night skies. Even with very low assumptions, space is still very, very big, yeah? There should be thousands of advanced civilizations in our Milky Way galaxy alone right now. Maybe millions with different numbers. It should be noise everywhere. Crowded. But…we hear nothing. It's the Fermi paradox. Where is everyone? So there's this other theory - it says that there must be some filter. To explain this emptiness. Something that prevents intelligent life - exceptionally rare to start with, maybe - from advancing beyond a certain point before going extinct. Something common that keeps all life in the universe from moving out to the stars. Some think diseases. Inevitable eco-collapse as few resources are used by so many. Or that mostly aggressive species are the ones to reach primacy, and at a certain level of advancement, they all discover how to split the atom and it's just a matter of time for them. Whatever. This, I wouldn't find surprising. This could easily be our great filter." He motioned to the still image of the plots over Max's head.

Don spoke up after a moment. "Why October of 2338? It seems arbitrary, but it's not random, is it?"

Hank leaned back. "Thank you for your thoughts everyone. And that's very astute, Mr. O'Connell. No, it's not random. And for the record - those aren't projections. They're the real numbers. At least…real numbers from the future of an alternate timeline. You'll note that she was speaking of these things as though they were in the past. Sorry. Big reveal. There's a bit of a time travel thing in the middle of all of this we should maybe talk about next…"

Tracey threw her bag over her shoulder, got up to leave. "Oh, for fuck's sake…" That was enough.

"Miss Wells, if it's any consolation, the time travel isn't actually the weirdest part?"

She stared. They were obviously taking the piss out of her. Or literally batshit insane. Either way, she'd heard enough nonsense for one day. This wasn't going to help her understand John. Or New Year's. Or…maybe it did in a weird sort of way?

Hank interrupted her thoughts on her way to the door.

"You were shot, right? New Year's?"

She stopped. "Yes. At least I…"

"If you leave - and you're welcome to do so, as long as you're mindful of the NDAs you signed - you'll be leaving without the answers you came here for."

She laughed. "These aren't answers though, are they? This is complete bullshit. I'm sorry - it is."

"I swear to you, one human being to another, it's not. I think a part of you knows that. You've experienced it firsthand. Maybe you didn't recognize it at the time. Not asking for faith, Miss Wells. This is just an orientation. The grassy edge of the rabbit hole. Pick your metaphor. There's more on the other side. You have questions. I have some of the answers. They'll have more. We look for the rest together. Don't you want to know? Even if the answer turns out to be that we're all just nuts?"

He turned to Davide. "Mr. Duboque - you're a legitimate expert. Is there anything you know that says time travel is impossible?"

"Well, not explicitly, no. Time is just another direction. Relative. We travel at a different rate when we're in motion, when we're under the influence of gravity… But a machine that moves people back and forth in time, probably not. It's very unlikely to happen."

"But not impossible?"

"No, it's not expressly forbidden, as long as you don't violate causality. If you believe what you're suggesting, that list there would appear to do just that. That's the only flaw with this idea. And the energies needed, of course."

"Well, you'll recall I did say 'alternate'. Helps if you think of it like a virtual timeline maybe? I mean, it _was_ real. For her, I mean, before…"

"Her?" asked Michelle.

"Right. Jumped ahead. Sorry. I meant Mrs. Caulfield."

Tracey stifled a laugh, threw out her arms as she edged closer to the door. "So you're trying to tell me that Max Caulfield _truly believes_ she's from the future?"

"Not exactly. No. Pretty sure she's from Oregon. Born in '95, I think. But she lived through all of that up there. They both did. There's some sort of longevity thing going on too. It's not important. She's lived a few hundred years by calendar. Then she came back."

Incredulous at the audacity of the whole thing, Tracey rolled her eyes and asked, "So Max and Chloe came back from the future to what? Warn us all of impending doom? It's ridiculous! I mean, come on. They're barely past school age. You're obviously having at us…"

"Well, technically only Max came back. Chloe's situation is more…complicated I guess. I'm sure they'll fill in the gaps. But ask yourself, Miss Wells. You're an expert in your own right. Art history. Ancient cultures. Rapa Nui. Mayans. Harappan. Catalhoyuk. Those are just the ones that left a trace. What happened to them? I'm guessing most of the people thought everything was great, right up until the point where it wasn't. Is it so outlandish that we could be facing the same? And setting aside for the moment whether any of what I'm saying about this timeline stuff is factual, are the threats to us here and now any less predictable or real? Can you honestly look at the world, through your own lens of education and historical understanding, and say that we're heading in a good direction?"

"Yes, but you're talking about peoples you've cherry picked from pre-history through to the middle ages. On a vastly different population and mobility scale."

"I don't know. I mean, at one point, the Harappan was home to about ten percent of the world's population…"

"And the dissolution happened over many years. The people were scattered, not entirely lost. Rainfall, climate…"

"And Rapa Nui was trees. Used up the land. Unsustainable. I could go on. But you're an intelligent person. You can see the patterns. Changes in climate. Unsustainable farming practices. Resource depletion. Warfare. Disease. Sounds kinda familiar. Is it so bad to want to head that off for ourselves? Cause you're right. The devastation in the modern world would be on a vastly different scale. The toll in suffering mostly unimaginable to us in this room… I was upset on the drive in this morning. My latte wasn't the right temperature, but I didn't realize it until I was back on the road. I mean, how messed up is that? I can't begin to comprehend any of this. Not really. But I've heard them talk about it. They lived through it. Our resident SEAL knows. That faraway look. The way the voice slows, drops. You've seen it before. Am I right? So they came back to try to take us somewhere different. Assembled the resources, the facilities, the teams, and they're giving all of us an opportunity to share in their burden."

Tracey tried to interrupt. "But…"

Hank continued. "Even if I believed this whole thing was pure fantasy…hell, I'm on board. I don't have a better plan. Try to leave everything in better shape than when we got here. That's the deal, right? I can't do any better than try. None of us can. But I believe we have to do that much, at least. And being here feels like the most serious shot we've got."

"And my leg? Where I was shot? What about that?" _Last chance._

"I wasn't kidding when I said time travel wasn't the weirdest part. I believe you were probably shot. I don't know for sure what happened to you after that. I can ask later. So can you. But I can think of three ways it might have been done in the field without tools or anesthesia. None would leave a scar. There's no magic, Miss Wells. Only things we don't yet understand. Give us a chance to help you understand. This goes for the rest of you too, by the way."

Tracey slowly sat back down. Different chair. Closer to the door. This was all crazy. She didn't believe a bit of it. But…that didn't make their goals wrong. Was it any crazier than other belief systems she'd studied? Not that anyone here could really believe any of this either, of course.

She'd play along for an hour or two.

They'd all have a laugh about this over drinks later.

"Miss Wells, everyone - I know this is a lot to take in. So let's take a break for a few. I think they're bringing in snacks. Coffee and tea, sodas will be in the back. Restroom's down the hall. Let's come back in 5? When we do, we'll spend some time familiarizing you with the taxonomy of talents. Then a little bit of history. Go over our areas of current focus, and give you a sense of where we are in the optimal future timeline. Context, big picture. Then we'll go walkabout so you can see a few things people are working on firsthand... Introduce you around."


	6. Mondays, Pt2

**Max** touched Chloe's arm, "Can you put up some of their photos?"

Chloe blinked. A gallery of captured agents settled up against the glass wall.

"So we don't have a ton yet, John. Even with Margaret and her team on Q&A duty. I mean, to be fair, it's only been a few days since we dropped them off, and they have a whole lot of people to process. But we have _some_ new details. For example, we assumed they were all local contractors, but…"

John pointed to a couple of the photos. "I recognize two of these men. Can't place them, but I know I've seen or worked with them before."

Chloe enlarged them a little. "Those two are former SAS. Listed KIA in Afghanistan, 2009."

"Must have crossed paths. Obviously not dead though. Right?"

Their faces decayed, cartoon brains fell out onto the conference table. Chloe zoomed out as they returned to normal. "Yeah, would be pretty cool if they were, you know, zombies or something. No? Okay, so here's the deal… We've got more than thirty of these meat-bags in holding. Only one of 'em is American."

"So, what, this was a UK operation?" John asked.

Pictures glowed brighter in combinations as Chloe pointed. "Nope - that's the super weird thing - those two and this third guy are the only ones from England. The rest are a mosh. All over the board. Israel, Germany, South Korea, Russia, Pakistan, South Africa, Columbia… All the ones we could find are permanently off the books. KIA, MIA, auto accidents, usual covert bullshit… Handful of others we couldn't find records for, but Margaret's notes say they're from North Korea, Australia, Egypt and Brazil."

John leaned back, hands behind his head. "This doesn't make any goddamn sense. All these guys on the same squad? Allies I could see teaming up in a pinch maybe. But…"

Max leaned to one side, folded a leg under her. "It makes a little sense. We know almost every country has their own flavor of 'them', right? And cooperation between friendly ops groups has happened before."

"Yeah, like I said, the allies I'd buy. I mean, it still wouldn't explain motive… But throw in North and South Korea? Israel, Pakistan and Egypt? No way. Even the UK and Russians have been working against each other behind the scenes for years. I'd expect some of these guys would try to capture or kill each other on sight - not bunk up."

Jeremy spoke up. "Would they really?"

"More 'capture' probably, but yeah. There's a lot of bad blood. Even for professionals. Teammates have been killed all around. Some in not very friendly ways, if you believe the stories. And a few of these groups have been political, military and philosophical adversaries for a very long time. Their networks are reflections of the nations and cultures they emerged from after all."

"That's our assumption, right?" asked Jeremy. "That they're all discretely siloed in that way?"

"Well, yeah. It's what we were taught. Experience and data line up behind it."

"But we don't really know, do we? Just asking. Is it too simple? Assuming that everyone is waving their separate flags, and only those flags?"

"It's _a lot_ of experience and data. If it quacks like a duck…"

"…might be an old guy in the shrub with a shotgun. Usual cliche about appearances holds, John. And that's without intentional misdirection. I mean, you look at your basic map for instance. They give each country a separate color as a way to simplify and unify a patch of land, help distinguish it from its neighbors. It's useful to a point, but the map barely represents two dimensions. We know from our own country how elusive that notion of unity is. Demographics, psychographics…overlapping cultures and values. We've got factions, parties, philosophies, economics, race, religion, class, education levels, personality types, national origin, orientation, identity, specific geographies… I could go on. Nations are messy and divided on the inside - to the point where we worry when one starts acting like it isn't. They're made of individual people. So they have lots of competing ideas about how they should be, and how they should align and interact with others. But you don't learn any of that from the fields of color. The map isn't the same as the world."

John fidgeted with the remnants of his tart. "In the field, we have to make assumptions or we could never operate. And yeah, it's often based on incomplete understanding that updates or changes in real-time as situations evolve. The alternative is a thing we call analysis paralysis. Waiting for perfect intel that can't ever exist in the real world…"

"Not arguing that point."

"Then where are you going with this? There's no contradictory thread…"

Jeremy waved his hand at the hovering agents. "Maybe, maybe not. Let me finish. I want to drill into this a little."

John relented. "Alright. Sorry. Your floor."

"Point being - I think we all understand and agree, data isn't always information. And information isn't always complete. And we can draw dangerously incorrect conclusions when we give long held assumptions the same weight as knowledge. At least to the point that we unconsciously discount other possibilities. Updating assumptions in real time means accepting new information and evolving your position based on the new landscape. Like the unexpected cooperation between people we know to have been antagonistic toward each other through the very recent past. We have to understand that our assumptions might be wrong in order to find where our understanding is flawed. Especially if we're trying to understand the underlying truth or motives behind the actions. Relevant example of alternatives, from our own experience. We already know nations aren't the only organized structures of power people have created or used."

He looked around at the room, the building, held up his hands.

"Corporate." John nodded. "Still…"

"Economic engines come in lots of shapes. Companies, industries, holdings, associations, trusts…. They have resources, personnel, leaders and objectives. Alliances and enemies… More importantly for this little conversational detour, economic entities aren't generally tied to any one geo. Or _only_ one. They may wave little flags here and there, but they're up in the atmosphere, above the little squares of land, untethered. Push hard enough on a politician or a journalist, and eventually an army moves. What else? Collective archetypes… Anyone?"

"Religions." offered Jillian.

"Right. They have regional origins, and sometimes global influence. Floating up at yet another level, way above the atmosphere. Hope and control. Carrot and stick. Everlasting hellfire and ascending souls and all that. Appealing to people at a much more personal and intrinsically cultural level than companies do. It's a different vehicle. As systems of belief, they're almost always mutually exclusive of one another, rules of thought contagion and memetic self-propagation being what they are… Strong ties to culture, region, race, and history though… We already know what people are willing to do for their gods. To each other… Or _for_ each other, depending on the god and the perceived level of threat or need or personal filter. It's never just one thing.

"Never mind all the NGOs, trade associations, quasi-cooperative cross border structures like the EU, UN, ICC, WTO, IMF, G8, or cross-military blocks like NATO. Militant anarchist organizations - which always cracked me up a little. Then there are all the organized crime networks, regional, international… Another set of overlays. Leverage, extortion, threats. Then you have the media, or social filtering algorithms, both are used by and against everyone on behalf of corporate interests, governments or religions, depending… And bear in mind that every single one of these is trying to influence the perceptions and activities of people inside the others as well… Affect opinions and…ultimately policies and action. They all have cash. Direction. And that's normal operations, without any undue influence.

"Here in the US, as in many western democracies, corporations and government have created a very co-dependent relationship. John and I are familiar with that world from past lives. It's how power is most comprehensively collected, defended and expressed here. Elsewhere, religion and government co-mingle more strongly, while corporations lack influence. Multiple things, again.

"Regions represented up there pull from a cross-section of those types. Yet here they are, all together.

"Max, Chloe - question for you - why did you two decide to start a company?"

Chloe quietly deferred to Max, who blinked in surprise. She wasn't expecting the question. "Didn't give it much thought beyond 'yes'. It was something we were able to do. To move things forward when we needed to stay out of sight and had fewer options. Thought we could keep our identities hidden, but that didn't work. Seemed like he best way to protect ourselves, and still get some help. It's what we did last loop too, although we didn't know that here yet. It's obviously proven useful for organizing resources and people, pointing everyone at a common goal. The infrastructure for doing it is in place in the western world this far back, like you point out. Service providers, legal, finance, insurance… If you have cash already, you can do most anything. Gives you a layer of protection, recognition by government bodies and other corporations, you can move money around, keep things on the DL if you need to, hiding activities in other paper companies…"

"Understood. Sorry Max - what I should have asked was why did you choose to build a company specifically, and not, say, a religion…or why didn't you simply take over a country instead? You could have done any of them…"

"Well…" she laughed. "I…don't know about that. We wouldn't have done the other two though. It's the one that occurred to us I guess. But sitting here, given the choice between the three, I'd say the direction we took is still the one based mostly on free will and voluntary association. Everyone is here because they understand the truth about what's at stake, and they want to try to help. The idea of tricking people, or taking advantage of their trust or gullibility by starting a fake religion would never feel right." She looked at Chloe. "Same with projecting the kind of force or violence necessary to take over a country. Both would hurt innocent people in one way or another. It just…neither of those are things we'd ever do."

Chloe nodded in agreement.

"Clashes with your particular sensibilities… I get that. Although, it's interesting to me that you assumed you'd need to use force to take over a country. Instead of say, charm, or sharing hopes and dreams _and plans_ for a brighter future with the people directly…like you did privately, on a much smaller scale within the walls of this company. Or that you'd need to _fool_ people in order to start a religion. _You._ I mean… Control time and space, bring the dead back to life, rewrite fate… Here to save the world. A message of hope and salvation? Two distinct sets of the wacky internet fringe semi-following you for different reasons already… You really could walk on water if you wanted to, right?"

"I mean, yeah, when I… I mean… I could, but… wait. …what fringe?"

He stopped her. "Point is, any one of those paths could have been a successful means to the end we all want. Vision, resources, people and direction. Any one would give you that platform. You had the freedom to choose, and this was the direction you picked. Thanks, Max. I only asked to illustrate to everyone that there are multiple paths that would be just as viable for us. Which is certainly true for any variety of them as well. They're out there, and could as easily infiltrate any existing structural type as a means of steering outcomes. Or multiples of them. Doesn't have to be countries exclusively."

Max turned to Chloe. Silently mouthed ' _fringe'?_

Chloe nodded with a grin. ' _Uh huh. Later.'_

"Nations…are the most obvious unit we can point to, the easiest to grok. Maybe the most convenient or closest to home for them most of the time. But we can see after only a few minutes of shortlisting that there are multiple overlapping, often blending, structures of power and influence available - all of them interacting at various points, some in open cooperation or conflict with each other. It's messy and complicated, but at the end, they're all made _by people_ , and comprised entirely _of people_. And each person has their own agenda, background, social, familial and professional networks, wants, fears, needs, and their own unique things going on. They can and do exist in multiple of these power and identity structures in any combination, usually simultaneously."

Chloe looked to Sophie. "Back to what you said before, Soph… Maybe none of this detail shit matters in the end. Maybe it's the wrong fight anyway. It's all just people. They're the ones who decide the future, one small choice at a time…"

 _I don't disagree in principal, but I wish they'd stop with these not-so-subtle little pushes._ Max thought, very privately.

"I don't know about any of that." said Jeremy, "The point I'm trying to make is that there are many power structures, and people are more than just one thing. So it stands to reason our adversaries could also be more than just one thing. Not that they have to be, but that they could be.

Picture might be more complex or nuanced than we think is all.

Not saying you're wrong, John, or that our assumptions about them are all wrong. It may be that the simplest picture is the right one. I'm only suggesting that there's no conclusive evidence for it that excludes any of the alternatives. We should be careful not to feel so certain that what we can see is what there is, or that we're right about what we see. Especially in light of new evidence…"

* * *

 **Emily** felt tired. She'd been cooped up for days, and her fingers were starting to go numb. She'd done dozens so far, but her pencils weren't cooperating this morning. The art was okay. Some were sloppier than she liked. Shaky. But it wasn't that. She wasn't sure who was leading. Maybe it was the utter lack of alcohol and smokes, but her coordination felt off. Unconfident. Like she was trying too hard for control when she really needed to flow.

Boredom didn't help. Fingernails were all back behind the safe line.

Mental fidgets manifested themselves on paper instead.

"Shit." She looked down at the new sketch. It was a pretty scene. Forest. Sky. Moon. Pterodactyl. "…scratch. At least draw a fucking AT-AT shooting it down next time…"

She crumpled the picture into a tight wad, tossed it into the open trashcan near the door.

"Three points. Hoosh!"

Lowered her arms, rubbed her eyes, took out another fresh sheet of paper.

Music streamed in the background as she started on the next masterpiece.

* * *

 **Max** processed for a moment before retreating into the stillness. She wanted a sec to think about all of this, but without time pressure. It was something…it had been picking at them both over the past couple of years. Big picture. Bigger…picture.

 _It all looked a certain way… From a certain point of view._

Shells and nested vapor companies and their hired guns were all they'd been able to grab directly. At least so far. Whack-a-mole with empty paper moles. They had limited insights into org charts and hierarchies from John, Margaret, some talents, and a variety of others they'd captured or recruited over time. But it all stopped past a certain point. Surprisingly low level. Operational. Digital paper trails ended in recursive loops. Financing came out of nowhere, went nowhere. Records themselves were suspect.

Beyond that was only individual assumption mixed with common sense. Nothing concrete, and different for each person. Compartmented information, which wasn't all that surprising. Offline transactions and comms. Governments and intelligence communities used it. Terrorist cells were built on the model. Kept anyone from putting together the big picture - shape, scope, motivators, objectives, plans, players, inter-connections, whatever. Too many dead ends. But all aligned. Pointing a certain, expected, comfortable way.

The visible moves all supported a picture of conflict between national interests. An easy mirror to the world.

But it wasn't clear how that lined up with the other bits. All those floaty heads over the table with their different flags… Or even worse, with the meta. Her failed jump back. The shadows. The caves. She had a fragment of memory, and three smudges on a wall. It…wasn't a lot. Thought she'd know more by now.

Knew how it made her feel though…

The way Chloe broke it down, if the shadows were more than a metaphor, there were only three broad possibilities. One, they were a standard, benign feature of this reality - ambivalent, disconnected, no more malice or concern than a distant star. Two, they were uninvolved, but drawn for whatever reason to the inevitable chaos. Or, last option, they were active or passive participants, tainting or influencing events somehow.

Max didn't believe for a moment that they were metaphor, or benign. The placement in the cave, the menace. Their symbolic absence from the wall of a dead world. …the…tearing apart…

…maybe the shadows _were_ metaphors, at least in a sense. She wasn't sure how better to relate to anything about the void anyway. Even 'void' wasn't really right to describe the spaces between. And even 'spaces between' wasn't right… _It would be so much easier if I had command of the math to describe all of this._ But…even if they were metaphors, they still had presence. And in her one direct interaction, they seemed to have intention. Or at least action or…reaction? _Something._

 _Fuck it. English, Max - 'scary and mean and probably up to no good' is as good a description as any…_

Where did that leave them in the end though? Were they causing the car crash, or just watching it? Anticipating it?

If they were influencing events, there was the question of how… 'Why' was less important with patterns and directions this obvious. She didn't have answers. Or…any new information.

Chloe likened it to the practice of inferring the existence of celestial bodies mathematically, based on the observed motions of other more visible bodies in the skies. Which is great if you can see everything else clearly over a long enough timescale. To Max, this was more like…like trying to piece together a puzzle where the picture has been scraped off and all of the edge pieces were missing, and most of the rest were gone from the box, but had probably been mixed with other puzzles anyway. And the box was in another room. But there was a faraway childhood memory of a picture of an old red water mill, so maybe she could jam the pieces together and… …probably get eaten by a hungry bear lurking somewhere inside the house.

 _Would knowing even help? What could we possibly do differently?_

…maybe the shadows weren't connected at all, and their little gang was just…fighting regular, boring old human nature, played out between networks of like-minded, powerful people. Occam's razor.

It was metaphysical question, about a maybe thing they couldn't see directly, and maybe connections to other things they couldn't see directly — so…not very actionable by the extended team. It's why they'd kept it to themselves.

But Max wasn't ruling out anything at this point. They'd only been at this two years. _A blink_ , she reminded herself. Sometimes it took decades of observation before astronomers had sufficient data see what they couldn't amidst the movements of stars…

 _But…in spending all our time heads down, pouring over data, trying to find these small hidden things… are we missing the point? The most obvious truth, right in front of us?_

 _There are so many brilliant lights shining out there._

 _…and they're all so beautiful._

She'd reached the point of diminishing returns.

Been down these thoughts before.

 _Still…nowhere new yet._

Exited the freeze.

Jeremy continued on, unaware his mouth had been hanging open for the past few minutes of MaxTime… "But…let's set all of that aside - say their cooperation would be impossible as strictly state actors. And maybe as citizens or private contractors working for national interests. Let's use the simplest picture. Individuals can often deviate from expectations of a group. Circumstances can change, everyone has a boss…enemy of my enemy and all that? Money also talks. Whatever the case, the proof is in the reality. They were all here, working together…"

"…like some fucked up weird-science UN of bad guys." said Max, under her breath.

"They started on this op more than a year ago." Chloe added, "That's a fast hug for group therapy…"

Jeremy shook his head. "I'm surprised it's taken this long. We don't work for the US government or…any related network organizations. Or any interests beyond our own - which are everyone's interests, but not everyone sees it that way. So there's no protective shadow from the US, if you will. And we don't confine our operations to any set of borders. Why should we expect they would when dealing with us? We may not see ourselves as an immediate threat to every group of 'them' yet… Whatever their shape. But collectively? They might. And that might be reason and motive enough. A lot of our activities have stepped on toes over the last couple of years. And a few of our more necessary innovations threaten some very powerful entrenched industries, with significant financial and geopolitical implications."

"The reactor." Chloe said.

Technical drawings, diagrams, schematics and renders filled one end of the room.

Jeremy nodded, "For a start. We shouldn't be surprised by this, guys. Most of us here have seen the trajectories on our way to a full-spectrum post-scarcity society. At least, first plateau, here on earth. Energy is a low-level building block the lowest level of the hierarchy. But one that everything else builds on. It's critical to our plans, and the first real shot across the bow for them. Timing lines up."

"But that's a good thing, right?" asked Jillian. "Eventually solving all the world's energy problems?"

"Yes, of course. Absolutely." said Jeremy. "But there's risk in any truly revolutionary transition. There haven't been that many. Agriculture. The wheel. The printing press. Steam. Flight. Electricity. Antibiotics. The automobile. The internet. The big ones. This is arguably more impactful in terms of quality-of-life improvements over numbers of people."

"Clean energy was one of the best things we could do early to reduce the harm-in-progress." said Max.

"But, to Jeremy's point, we've gone way beyond 'clean' with our first draft." Chloe added. "This revolution is about cheap energy too. And that's super disruptive."

Jeremy took a sip of coffee. "It's why we released general reference schematics to the web a year ago - to send a signal that it's coming. And why we've intentionally gone slow with our biz dev efforts, taking it to tech manufacturers first. Get the public used to the idea, time to absorb the benefits and implications. License the patents for commercial use at a buck a device, which gets us an additional stream of operating revenue…and it's still cheap for everyone else. Meanwhile, being public with it frees us to openly use the design to power our own not-for-profit projects in crisis areas where there are the most immediate triage needs. Clean water production. Food. Housing. Basic services."

"I read the briefing docs and talking points about the research paper, promises on future licensing. The PR team put together the release and pitched stories about the concept last year. Did we finish it? Build one? It was only a proposed design."

Chloe interrupted, "Yeah, uh, nope. We have a bunch of them running now. Another message we didn't push - this isn't even a very advanced approach. Not compared to others we're using. Works, but it's really just a simple load-responsive cold fusion reactor that goes from heat to electricity in one unit. A plausible first leap that's sideways and ahead of existing tech, but…it isn't _too_ outlandish for the current state of science or fab capabilities. So it'll make sense when people see the full spec. I mean, there's prior-ish art, anyway… People have been messing with related paths to cold fusion longer than I've been alive, and there's been some recent independent work in Canada using carbon nanotube forests as heat sinks that go right to electricity… Once we out the design in full, it won't stand out as coming directly from the future or anything… _Unlike certain other objects we won't mention…_ Now…that's _less_ true of the two leaps we'll introduce in the next ten to twenty years. The one based on self-assembled macro-blocks of passive nanoscale collector structures…solid state, asymmetric standing waveguides, blah blah… And the other types that use micro-wormholes with virtual particles or virtual negative energy… They'll be much more interesting to try and explain…" Chloe shrugged with a smile.

Max said with a half laugh, "Sorry - I'm calling it. Nerd-alert…"

"You're a nerd-alert!" Chloe squinted at Max. "And this would be _so much easier_ if we could just come right out and say 'Yup. It's from the goddamn future. Here. You're fucking welcome'."

Max made that face.

Jeremy looked at the clock, picked it back up. "Yeah. So, Jillian, long story probably a little longer so you have some context…within a few years, manufacturers and suppliers will get a handle on these materials and processes. That's when they really start to embrace new design freedoms. Once power generation moves directly into the devices that consume it, computers, phones, lighting, medical devices, refrigeration, HVac, whatever, we'll show how it scales up from there. Robots. Vehicles. Stadiums. Farms. Arcologies. Ships. Rotating orbital habitats. Where we land is no more wires. No more batteries. No more fuel. No need for centralized power generation or energy distribution networks at all. Total freedom, really."

"Followed most of that, but I'm still not seeing why this is bad. Even if it's real now - which someone might have told me earlier, by the way… A few in the popular science press went down this rosy-futures path when we dropped that last announcement. Sentiment was almost entirely positive…"

Chloe threw the breakdown charts up behind her. "With the public and the pop-science geeks, sure. Other comments were super skeptical without access to anything more solid. Which was expected - we kept the prototypes and tech details out of it. But the 'bad' part comes back to pure self-interest, Jilli. Anyone eagle-eyeing us should be able to see the writing on the wall. No need for oil, gas, coal, nuclear, solar, or wind power. Like, at all. Ever. No need for lithium ion polymer batteries. Lead acid. Whatever. Mining, extraction, gone. Which is all great for the environment, people and businesses…"

"Most people. Most businesses." Jeremy added. "For the undiversified, rapidity of change limits adaptation opportunities. At scale, the price of motive energy essentially drops to zero. But price to one is revenue to another. We'd planned to phase this in over time to limit the very real system shock."

Max added, "It's the future, delivered now. But some people still lose. Gas stations. Stockholders take a hit on futures. A few oil-rich countries that didn't invest in anything else have to figure out what to do. Better than the alternative, but not everyone's gonna love this, even with phasing."

Jeremy nodded. "Right. More win of course. That's our plan - everyone wins long-term, once it settles out. Quality of life rises almost incomprehensibly for literally everyone on the planet within a decade. Nations no longer need to compete for energy resources, which means related global tensions should go way down. Energy related pollution falls off the chart. Factory robots, drones, cars, TVs, computers, spacecraft, ships, farm equipment, 3d construction printers, all of it - everything runs clean and free, well…near enough free to start. And when you combine free energy with really intelligent automation, the cost of doing useful work of all kinds plummets. The cost of production, transportation also moves near zero. Recycling too. Energy plus technology is a huge win in that regard. Manual labor. Blue collar. White collar. Doesn't matter. The need for people to do work to survive evaporates once the cost of basic survival goes to nearly nothing. Once we get there, we'll have gone a long way to removing existential worries about basic human needs for everyone. Food. Shelter. Water."

Max looked to Sophie first, then turned to Jillian. "And once basic needs are met for everyone, we can work our way up the societal hierarchy of needs from there."

Sophie said to Max, "Parts of this are sounding almost familiar…"

"And dangerously naive. That's way too many people out of work." said Jillian. "Think we've got public anger at inequity now… What do they all do? What do we do with all of them?"

"Happens anyway." said Max. "Last loop, shit really started to hit the fan by 2035 or so. Stats for unemployment broke down with all the adjustments and qualifiers they tacked on, but it was less than a quarter of the real population working at that point. Robots, algorithms… It was great if you owned a business that used a bunch of them. Bad if you didn't. Most countries sorted out the basic income thing, but it was too little, too late."

Jeremy shrugged. "We keep moving forward, Jillian. No choice. Our way, the anger, riots, economic collapse - none of that happens. Opposite, in fact. There's a second part too though. Unintended but predictable consequences. The cost and survival risk of making new people goes way down. It's a real thing. We expect a huge population explosion. That's the thing to navigate correctly.

"Socially, we'll have to keep up on education, ensure the cultural architectures encourage personal development, provide outlets for creative and productive drives. Ensure people have a sense of purpose, feel secure in themselves, have optimism for their futures. Open access to truthful information, social opportunities, the like. A lot of that is policy work, starting now. Medium-term, working becomes a voluntary choice though, rather than essential. But doesn't have to go away completely. Free time for everyone goes way up as the cost of living vanishes for the average person. Poverty, starvation become terrible relics of the past, even as the number of people increases. There's still a use and need for money, but the cost of food, luxury-quality shelter and amusements diminishes to almost nothing, so it almost doesn't matter.

"New practices, too expensive to even consider under the old energy paradigm, can finally take off. Automated high density vertical farming. Mass scale desalinization of sea water. New construction materials and techniques. Improved infrastructure construction, massive city-building and works projects, all in harmony with nature this time. Turning back deserts, replanting forests and reefs, expanding habitats on land and sea for plants and wildlife. Going up and down - global sub-orbital transport systems, undersea cities that can crack their own oxygen supplies, while providing extra heat and light to create thriving new marine ecosystems. New vertical cities above and below ground light up the night like never before.

"We'll need all of that and more to recover and rebalance with nature as our population balloons. But Max and Chloe have already seen that model work before - self-contained sustainable city-islands surrounded by forests and wilds… Someone ran the numbers, and that model could easily support ten times the current human population on around ten percent of the land, while increasing luxury for everyone beyond imagining — all while restoring and preserving the natural world, reintroducing extinct populations, and so on.

"That's before we get to the massive rotating orbital habitats in space… Assuming Chloe doesn't have plans for artificial gravity floating around in her head somewhere. Or did that just get solved?"

"Huh. Let me get back to you on that?" Chloe said.

"Yeah. Even without… Using current materials and slightly more advanced tech, we could probably make habitats up to about twenty miles in diameter, and as long as we want. With some of the graphene fab techniques on the horizon, they could have the land surface area of continents wrapped inside larger ones. Could link up to form larger structures, or remain independent. They'd balance living space and food production with a lot of nature… Parks, forests, seas… We could easily support trillions of trillions of people, in extreme luxury, in orbit around the sun… Others would inevitably go off in search of new stars. It's a new beginning. Not just for us, but for all life here.

"Energy is that big a keystone for the future. There is almost no concern with this kind of clean energy abundance. It's one possible path, but transformative in so many ways we still can't fully predict. Once people get a hold of this at scale, they'll make it their own anyway."

Jillian stopped taking notes. "That all sounds amazing. And I can feel your passion for it. Which will play really well if I'm allowed to ever go public with any part of this… But back here on earth, when do we isolate the 'but…' that explains the past week? Jesus, I mean, that's all something to fight for, not against. What kind of morons…"

"Sorry, Jillian. My turn to wander off. I get excited about this. And I agree. But uh, Max mentioned it briefly. There are other things we can predict as well. All of them are short term effects, but real. The economics of energy shift - or perhaps 'evaporate' is the better word - dramatically and quickly. Too quickly for everyone to adapt to. New opportunities are created elsewhere, but in the meantime, there are millions of jobs, entire national economies and political dynasties dependent on resource exploitation. Oil and gas alone are a six-trillion dollar a year industry. Jobs, taxes, ecosystems of suppliers and services. Centralized energy wealth has given some fairly small groups control over larger captive populations. We take five to six percent of the world's economy off the table, just 'poof', and people are going to notice. Some will object. Strenuously. The ones who lose don't necessarily care about the benefits - or the thousand percent we add to the global economy through increased…well, everything really, in the first few years. Long term, everything changes. Taken in concert with our other efforts, the world becomes positively unrecognizable in half a century. Maybe sooner."

"So this was ultimately about oil?" asked Jillian.

"Yes and no." said Jeremy. "It's implication. Disruption. Power. Everything on our to-do list screws with someone. Nearly everyone by the time we're finished. We don't try to solve everything at once for that very reason. Anyway, all of them have supply chains, lobbyists, influence somewhere. That's just the legitimate business and political side. But then you take these networks of influence, floating above it all, skimming the cream, used to getting their way… They're the real problem. And this is symbolic to them. They see a wave of disintermediation coming, and they'd normally think how can they buy it. How can they shut it down. Buy the patents, monopolize it, turn it to their advantage, whatever. Or how do they kill everyone, and set it all on fire if that doesn't work. That's been their playbook. And it's worked well. A great many wars have started over a lot less. Except, now they can't do any of that. Not with us. Not with her." He motioned to Max. "There's no easy way around Max."

Sophie smiled, said quietly, "A nuclear bomb. In a field of thorns…"

"They can't buy her. They can't kill her. Going after people she cares about doesn't seem to work out so well for them. So they're stuck in place, and the train is coming at them fast… only now they see that they're all standing there together."

Jillian asked, "So what the hell was New Year's even about then? Seems a bit…I don't know…Don Quixote…"

"Desperation. Ego. Hail Mary. Probably the first of many more attempts to come. With what's at stake for many of these influence networks, they have a lot of incentive and very little to lose. And when you're facing real destruction, your definition of 'pawn' and 'expendable' and 'acceptable collateral damage' starts to get more expansive. Same with your definition of 'ally'. So they thought they could capture her maybe. Hold her alive indefinitely, perhaps? It was something to try. And if they couldn't, they could at least show their bosses, whoever they are, that they're doing that much."

"Why the international team, though? Why not use local contractors?" asked Sophie.

Max knew Sophie could see his thoughts. _She's probably asking so Jillian doesn't feel like she's the only one… She's smart, but hasn't been as inside on this yet…_

"Well, we don't know them well enough to know. Not specifically anyway. Maybe a signal to us? Or it's possible this gambit didn't involve the US power structures at all."

"Would international interests be allowed to operate on US soil independently? They'd have been detected, right?" Max asked, taking Sophie's lead.

"One scenario says you tied their hands here at home. We've certainly reduced and disincentivized their talent pool, so it's also possible they don't have eyes the way they used to. Or, again, the structures may be more varied or subtle or different than we think. Whatever the case, this gives the locals arm's length deniability if it failed, but everyone benefits if it had worked. A hedge maybe. I mean, we won't really know until Margaret has more time with them. Assuming any of them knew anything more than the operational orders."

John shook his head. "Something's missing. The American. What's the story with James Andersen? Who is he, and how does he fit into all of this?"

Jillian stopped. "James Andersen? _The_ James Andersen? Boston? New York?"

Chloe threw up his photo, bio information, transcripts, public photos, social graphs, texting history, company logos. "One and the same."

"An old colleague of mine worked for one of his startups for a while. He's got an interesting profile. What's he doing in the middle of this mess?"

* * *

 **Ariel** rotated the hand-sized holo-sphere, pushed in to zoom the computational reconstruction of the port hovering over her workstation. Changed angle with her other hand, scanning the rows of containers already on board. _Where are you, CCGU 741594 5?_

Her last floor wrapped up on Sunday with the safe return of the science nerds, their samples and the escort team. Should have taken a few days off, but she liked volunteering personal time for some of their side-missions. 'Liked' was maybe the wrong thought. They weren't always happy endings. It was more gratifying to her than hanging out in bed, binge-watching television.

This was _important_.

She scanned the last of the containers on board the ship. Not finding it, she rotated back and around to look at the trucks queued up for the lifter. A few blank spots in the image. "Dave, could you move D3 about fifty meters counter-clockwise? I think she's driving off axis again."

A voice from behind her, muffled by the control booth. "Sorry. Okay. Should resolve now."

"Got it. Cool. Thanks."

There were supposed to be three. Different colors, different container owners, all the docs were air. But linked to the same network of smugglers. At least, according to the details and photos they'd gotten from a frustrated local police investigator.

These smugglers moved things for a lot of customers. They weren't an internal part of the trafficking organization that most of the floor was after in one way or another. Paid off the workers at the docks, the ship's crews in some cases. Especially on the smaller ships like this where it would be nearly impossible not to hear them once they were underway.

The investigator had apparently hit a wall on interviews and surveillance. And more recently, had trouble getting access at all. Harassment complaints to local politicians, usual bullshit. And there wasn't really any help internationally without official requests and direct evidence. And more paperwork. So he'd gotten in touch. Unofficially. File drops.

None of it mapped directly to MCCP or any subsidiaries, and the locals sending in requests for help didn't usually ask too many questions. Sometimes it was a department, other times it was a single person. Word went around in certain circles that when there were no options left, sometimes there was an option left. What came back to them after was usually a digital package. Surveillance, communications, IDs, messages, conversations, video. Most of the evidence the locals would need to see the big picture and push through on their end. They couldn't always act on it directly, but it gave them enough for closed door meetings with the higher ups. Parallel construction of new by-the-book evidence. Whatever. They helped.

But this whole op had been a little different. Tips came in from four separate cities in as many countries to start, all eventually linking back to the same trafficking group. Spanned at least three continents, and hundreds of people on payroll. Once it was clear the scope of the investigation was bigger, needed proper coordination, they took over an idle floor and divided up the work. They'd since made a friend on a human rights subcommittee at the UN. Insider referral from their friends working disaster relief. The ones with copies of the disaster lists… Ariel didn't know his name, but he'd help coordinate international law enforcement when the time came. Easy way to shift the credit, keep their name out of it.

Ariel rotated again.

This minor group had only been added to the mix today. She'd made the hard decision to follow the containers. Learn anything they could about what the operation looked like on the destination side, ID the intermediaries or buyers if possible, anything else they could learn or connect to the larger efforts. It was a risk. Leaving them in place. Hopefully they'd have something they could take to the destination authorities, if there were any. Enough to get them to stage a small rescue, anyway. If not, she'd think of something else.

So it was just the two of them. Ariel guiding, watching. Dave, piloting a few drones for her. On a floor full of volunteers working small ops together as part of a larger effort to shut the whole thing down, end to end.

"One down." she said. Third truck back in line. She switched to thermal to verify the sad truth. Human cargo. Tagged the segment for the core. Started a folder for the police investigator who tipped them off.

Ariel studied the glowing figures, some prone, others leaning against the sides and back. More than twenty. She whispered, "I know it doesn't feel like it right now… but you're not alone. _I promise you're not forgotten._ Hang in there… not leaving til you're all safe…"

* * *

 **Chloe** gave the overview. "James Andersen. Grandson of William Andersen, the founder of Elemental Dynamics. He's a high achiever. Family money. Mid-thirties. Smarty pants. MBA, PhD. Economics, physics. Entrepreneur. Sold his surveillance tech company to a defense contractor when he was in his twenties. Investor, VC, partner in a 2-billion-dollar hedge fund, sits on the boards of an investment bank and half a dozen enterprise and consumer tech startups. Politically connected through the DOD and members of a number of subcommittees. He's our bridge to The Device. And odds are, he was our show-runner on the ground."

"He seemed to be the one directing things that night, for sure… But when I chatted with him in a few of the timeline stubs, he seemed mostly terrified." Max sipped at her coffee innocently.

Chloe chuckled, continued while tossing up related images. "Okay - synthesizing everything I could piece together from Margaret's notes, the raw interviews, public records, Parker's team assessment, and the portion of documents we've digitized, this machine - started out as cold war stuff. James Andersen family history. TL;DR version - the US government funded a metric shitload of strategic research after World War II. Imperial shitload, maybe? Doesn't matter. Some of it was more fiction than science, went off into very obvious dead ends. Money was flowing though, so why not, right? James' grandfather, William, started his aeronautics research company after getting out of the US Army Air Corps, right about the time it became the US Air Force. He had a short but distinguished military career, made a few friends in Washington along the way. While other orgs were working with relocated Nazi scientists on jets, nukes, rocket engines - what would later feed into ICBMs and the space program… "

"Project Paperclip stuff." said Jeremy.

"Uh huh. …William was on a homegrown research project, operating in parallel, working on less conventional propulsion technologies. One of dozens, by the way. The budget really was astronomical for the time. This device appears to be the sole reason Elemental Dynamics was created."

Max asked, "But gravity? Magnetics? Like this? That bugs. How'd they get there? Seems…super advanced for the 1950's. Or now. Or a hundred years from now, even."

Parker spoke up for the first time. He'd been so quiet, Chloe almost forgot he was there. "That's the twenty-billion-dollar question. And…we don't know. But you're right. This is out of place. It shouldn't be here. Don't get me wrong - Tesla was way ahead of his time too. It does happen - some big non-intuitive leaps are made out of sequence by lone brainiac thinkers. But we don't think that's near the case here. William Andersen was a pilot, then a businessman, not an inventor or scientist. And experimentally, this device works like an incomplete copy of something whole. Look, here - there's no sign of iteration, no sign of design evolution or wrong paths taken. They just built it as is, right where it sits. But it couldn't have worked. Not then. The control systems were all analog. Manual. The energy draw was enormous, which they sorted out, but it would have been impossible for them to tune the harmonics in real time. They couldn't have done anything useful with it. The overlapping fields are too self-reactive. The structure of the device is there, but they had no way to control it. And without initial control, they wouldn't get to the insights needed to understand the necessary structural design to build in the first place. Closed loop. It would be like…an industrial deep fryer appearing the fossil record of the Cambrian explosion. There's just no way you could get there. We could be wrong, but team consensus at this point is that this was reverse engineered. And they didn't have the ability to replicate, or maybe even understand, all of the science or tech involved. Doesn't appear that they ever did get it going in a meaningful way. Although as Chloe points out, they were paid very well for their efforts over a great many years."

"You…you don't think we have another time traveler?" John scowled.

Chloe shrugged. "Nah. Come back to why in a minute. But The Device was mothballed for like, forty something years. Bout a year ago, they warmed it up. Replaced the old analog shit with digital controls. All of it. New sensors. Feedback loops. Software. That's all new. The generator, the tuning, Parker's team is still going over everything - but we think its function has been modified from the original intentions as well. They were trying to create repulsive forces back in the day. But James' team flipped it in the upgrade. Went for attraction instead."

Jeremy looked surprised. "This was originally intended as _anti_ -gravity? They were working on anti-gravity propulsion back then?"

"Unsuccessfully, but looks like."

Jillian asked, "Why haven't we heard of this?"

"Classified, probably? Tech dead-end? Dunno. I mean, there have been lots of small scale experiments done with levitating frogs and chilled superconductors and stuff, which all look pretty cool. And the occasional hype about positive antigravity hints or whatever. But nearly every one had serious problems with the experimental setup. Errors in the control environments, couldn't be duplicated, outright fraudulent data - or most common, the results were within the margin of error for noise, or didn't account for something obvious. Magnetic repulsion, ionic winds, temperature, air density shifts… Anyway, funding for this research project dried up in the early 1970's. Way before any of those attempts. William Andersen struggled on for another year before shutting everything down. Near as we can tell, the land has been in the family all these years. Forgotten. Hiding in plain sight." Chloe cleared the air of all images.

"It's really hard to believe no one noticed an entire industrial block was just sitting unused for decades." said Jillian.

John said, "There's an entire philosophy around blending in. People, buildings, whatever. At a certain point, things just become background. A street few people drive down is a street few people think to question. You'd be surprised what's behind some of the forgotten unmarked service doors of the world…"

"This still feels like way more questions than answers." Max scrunched her face. "If they didn't design it, where the hell did it come from? We didn't see anything like this last loop."

Chloe swiveled, tapped Max's leg with her boot, smile on her face. "I think we have ourselves a mystery, Scoob."

"You're enjoying that a little too much, Chloe."

"I haven't gotten to the good part yet."

"What's the good part?" John asked.

"This little shit-show of a week hasn't been a total bust. We have two clues. Well one clue, two sources. Whatever. Pointer, maybe. One was left in the margins in pencil, from one of the digitized docs from the old project days, and one was a fragment Margaret managed to lift from Andersen's brainpan. Guess he's been meditating to avoid their listening in, but this floated up anyway. They cross over each other with the same grid reference."

Max swiveled to face Chloe. "Well, what? What's the clue? C'mon…"

"A location."

"A location for…?"

"Dunno. But it's gotta be important. Might explain the tech. Might have more network intel. Not sure. But it makes a lot of sense when you think about it, and it's close enough for a drive. We might wanna follow the breadcrumbs old school on this one, Max… You and me. Just like old times?"

"Chloe? …why do you look so happy about this? What aren't you saying?"

"I'll give you a hint. It's northwest of here…"

"Oh. …Oh - goddammit, Chloe. …Fuck me. _Really?_ "

John laughed.

Sophie's face showed concern.

Jeremy was a blank.

Parker looked a little jealous.

Jillian looked around, confused.

Chloe swiveled back and forth in her chair, grinning madly.

Max squeezed the bridge of her nose with her fingertips. "I know. I know. Top of your goddamn bucket list. Fuck. Fine. Whatever."

Chloe jumped up. "Yes! It's gonna be so much fun Max - I promise! Okay - we just need stop in at the S4 facility… Mountain? Whatever. It's just south of Area 51. But…while we're there, we should, you know, poke around. Loot some crates and stuff, maybe? Never know what we'll find. Might even be a pool?"

* * *

 **Jacob** shuffled the drawings around on the leather surface of his heavy wooden desk. He looked at one, then the next before pushing them all back. "What am I looking at? What do you all think this means?"

"They might be moving him around." said Ted, the senior analyst. "One interpretation."

He picked up one of the drawings again. "This one here. A desert." Picked up the next. "And here, it's clearly in a pine forest." Then a third. "And this one with the ferns. Water. Mountains… But no roads, no structures, no landmarks… Is he in a blimp?"

"These are representative. There are nearly a hundred more, drawn over the past few days by four separate specialists. No two seem to be alike. They're capturing what they see."

"There has to be something. A pattern?"

"Well, yes. There are patterns in each, but they're not helpful to the end of giving us his location. This one here…" Ted turned over a drawing of a sea in moonlight. "It's obviously night, there's a storm on the horizon, and we have wave patterns and the shape of the coastline - through perspective, of course, but easy enough to extrapolate a rotation. We've looked at the angle of the moon in relation to time of day when it was drawn, for approximate latitude. Ran a global search for the fragment of coastline shape and cloud patterns on the night side, and…it's all coming up empty."

"What about this one?" Jacob turned it around. "This mountain range - what mountains are those? Surely…"

"The topography doesn't map. It doesn't seem to be anywhere. There _is_ a certain level of artistic interpretation or impression with this technique. They're not photographs."

 _This should be working. Troubling. But father warned them. We could have subsided for a few generations. Tolerated her. Resumed in sixty or eighty years, once she died of natural causes…_

"Sir?"

"Sorry. Keep looking. And keep me updated? The possibility that Andersen's approach would fail, and that he might be captured alive and tortured to death was the only feature of this particular plan I liked - but it doesn't help any of us if we can't learn where they're keeping the insufferable jackass."

"Of course, Mr. Wallace. There is one…other interpretation, but…it's not a popular one for rather obvious reasons… I'm actually reluctant to…"

"Out with it."

"Maybe the moon is important? I mean, I'm sure it can't be…"

"Are you suggesting they have him in a moon base, Ted? Really? A moon base?"

"Like I said, it's not a popular interpretation… But it _is_ the only common recognizable element in these drawings. Maybe it's symbolic. We'll…keep on."

"Well, look, I know there's a limit to how hard we can drive them, but see what you can do. They're our only source of leads right now. He's trained, but it's only a matter of time."

"We'll underscore the importance of accuracy and velocity with each of them."

* * *

 **Max** wanted a small headache. Not really, but she felt like she should have one for effect.

Jeremy said, "That sounds like something you two are probably best suited for. The less I know…"

"I think I'm with you on that one." agreed Jillian. "Just…try to stay out of the news? Or jail?" She looked down as her phone buzzed.

Chloe laughed. "No promises. But seriously, we'll be careful. Just need to blaze in, look around. Maybe find some data, some tech, some clue that leads us to someone higher up the asshole chain? A name, a company, anything. Won't know what we're looking for til we see it. Don't worry about us. We'll be like ninjas. They'll never know we were there."

Jeremy changed topics quickly. "Less I know, less I need to lie about to the grand jury. Oh - and one final item from me before we break. I know this is unfortunate timing Max, but we have a rare window of opportunity in Ecuador shaping up between 9:15 and 10am local tomorrow. Orbiting spy-sats will be clear, leaving a handful of older geostationary cameras to mask against. Our precogs agree with NOAA for once - there will be an unexpected cloud cover at sunrise that obscures visible wavelength for just under an hour. Everything syncs up. If you can mask the infra-red and accelerate, we could take Skywatch live tomorrow…"

"Is everything in place?" Max asked. _Be good to get her up and running…_

"Yes. Contracts are signed, everyone's onsite, ready to go. All volunteers. Four-mile perimeter. Supplies for about two years, although it should only be a ten-month burn to completion."

"Chloe? Can we do the Area 51 thing tomorrow afternoon maybe? I should really…"

"No - totally. Go. Who knows when we'll get another alignment."

"Cool. I should pop down there this afternoon to double-check with the folks on site. Pep talk sort of thing, maybe?"

"You'll be back though? Today, I mean?"

"Yeah. 4:30 maybe? Oh, right!" Max looked at John. "Shit. No, totally. What time are we all getting together with Trace?"

"About then I think." said John. "If she cuts loose earlier, Chloe can keep her entertained with me, right? Please? Help?" He smiled.

"No prob, dude. Happy to help entertain and indoctrinate Her Princessness, now that she's over the wall. Well, will be, anyway."

Max rolled her eyes. "Don't torture her, Chloe. She's friend, not food."

"What? I'm nice. I am."

John shook his head, squinted in a silent 'no'.

Jeremy moved to wrap things up. "Parker, Jillian, John, we'll take up action items with everyone in the staff meeting?"

Nods.

"Okay then. I'll see you guys on seven in 5?"

"Thanks everyone." Max called after them.

As Jeremy and Parker filed out, Jillian pulled Max and Chloe aside. Looked at her phone. "Sorry, this just came in. I know it's probably a 'no', but she claims she knows you two from school? Thought I'd give you the option."

Chloe looked at Max, back to Jillian, shrugged. "What's up?"

"Sorry. Interview request. From a blogger, media intern at the Journal. New York. Normally, this would go in the spam folder, but she said you were all old friends. Juliet Watson?"

Max went still. _What the fuck?_

She stared at Chloe. "She's…alive." she said simply. "I thought…"

"Blackwell Juliet? Wow. We're _really_ bad at this whole 'people' thing, Max."

"Jeez. No shit. Um, yeah. No. Set it up, Jillian? Fly her out, whatever?"

"You've got it.'

"Holy shit. Wait - did she say what it was about? Not that it really matters…"

"Interview later this month, story live in February sometime. That's their usual lead… 'We'll get you a full briefing doc ahead of time, but she's looking to do a profile piece on you two and MCCP."

Chloe frowned. "As cool as it would be for you two to catch up…that's not something they'd usually give to interns."

John waved on his way out. They waved back.

"No, of course not. It's an obvious bait and switch." Jillian said casually. "They'll hook you with the personal relationship, then send along an experienced grizzled cynic to 'supervise', who will end up running the interview. It's generally accepted that you two don't grant Q&As. So, she's probably using the connection to advance her career, and they're using her as a way in to you."

"This should be interesting…"

"She's alive though. Fuck. Why didn't we know that, Chlo?"

"We _have_ been a little busy I guess…"

"I'll keep you both copied on next steps. Happy to do some practice Q&A if you… yeah. That was dumb. Disregard…" She laughed, turning to leave. "I'm late. Have fun in Ecuador, Max." She closed the door to The Fishbowl, leaving them alone.

"Juliet. Huh."

"No shit, dude."

"Be nice to see an old friend." Max leaned into Chloe, gave her a playful kiss. "Okay, so moving on to other topics… Like…morning, sunshine."

"Hey doll. Should have woken me up before you left." Chloe wrapped her arms around her.

"You two just looked so cute. I couldn't."

"Free for lunch later?"

"I'll have to check with my personal assistant…" Max gave it a beat. Looked up. "Yeah. I'm free. You?"

Chloe smiled, shook her head. "Nope. I have friends."

"Ouch." Max pulled away, fake-pushed Chloe. "You suck."

Chloe laughed, pulled her back. "Well, I mean, you're my friend, so…not a lie…"

"Nice save. Ass."

Chloe shrugged, batted her eyes. "Wasn't it?"

"Maybe I should jump to the staging area sooner rather than later. Make sure I've got everything right, everyone's really on board. That way, we can have lunch, and I can hang here this afternoon to make sure you can't torment Tracey unsupervised."

"I'm so fucking nice to her! Why does everyone think I'm mean?"

"Chloe…"

"Whatever. I have to scoot too. Nap or something."

"Now you're just being lazy."

"Jealous? And you can take that up with our new racing team."

Max leaned in again, tiptoes, hand to the back of her neck, gave her a longer kiss. "I'll see you at lunch."

Chloe held her eyes. "Save you a seat."

Max lingered. Shook her head. "Back to work. You're distracting me."

"Uh-huh. You first."

" _You_ first."

"What? So you can stare at my butt, perv?"

"Hey! But, maybe guilty a little. Same time then?"

"Fine. On three."

"One…"

"Two…"

Chloe faded as the conference room gave way to a warm ocean breeze and a wall of green trees. "Three…"

* * *

 **Chloe** cracked open the fridge. "Hey, Michaels, beer?"

"Yeah. Please."

She grabbed two green bottles from the door. Flipped the caps off and into the air with her thumbs as she walked back. Both landed in the sink. She held one out for him before falling backwards onto the overstuffed leather chair. Boots up on the end of the coffee table. Sunset over the mountains beyond the glass.

John downed half the bottle, leaned back. "Thanks."

"She'll be fine, dude. And if she's not, who knows? Maybe there's a way Max can go back and…"

"No, I'm sure she will. But we both know that's a crap reason to redirect an entire timeline. Especially with so much shit going on between."

"If it would make a difference, I'm sure she'd be willing to run through again. She's done more for less. I mean, we might end up that way anyway. Sophie seemed to think it was a good idea to put Alena in the spotlight, but we still don't know where the fuck that's gonna land. Knowing what we know now, Max could easily skate back and end all of this quietly. Take everyone out of play before the party."

"Like it never happened. I know. She does enough rescuing already… You both do. But don't forget there was that note. Some version of her knew in advance, and chose not to intervene too directly. There was a reason."

"I don't know. Like, I get it now, more than I ever could have before. But sometimes it still breaks my brain a little."

John lifted his beer. "To fucking time travel."

"To fucking time travel."

* * *

 **Max** said goodbye to the moonlight and hello to the sunset.

She could hear them faintly on the other side. Changed out of her shoes first. _Don't need to track Ecuadoran mud all over the house…_ She was a little late, but it couldn't be helped. Had to go back down again after meeting Chloe for lunch. An hour for prep was too optimistic. She pulled on a fresh pair of socks, glanced around for Emo before heading out to join their friends.

"He's keen to get a better view, I think." Sophie said, giggling. "Hello, Max."

Those facing the other way turned to see her. "Hey. Is everyone good? Need anything while I'm up?"

"We're good, Maximus. Grab whatever and come on over."

"Tracey and I only just arrived. Chloe was introducing us to your new kitty." Sophie said. "He's a climber!"

Max laughed. "Many things are true. That is certainly one of them." She couldn't get a read on Trace yet, but if they just got here it meant she was probably still in the middle somewhere.

She walked around the coffee table, gave Hector a hug, and sat next to him on the other sofa. "How was it?"

"Good to be home for a while."

"Weirdness mostly gone?"

"Mostly. Yeah. It was nice. Chill. I mean, it's still a risk, you know, but I was careful."

"Just a matter of time."

"I hear that."

"Hey Trace." Max reached across, held out her hand.

After an almost imperceptible pause, Tracey took her hand, held a stare. Gradually let both go.

"How are you doing with all of this?" She'd try direct first. Max knew she might have to navigate this part a few times to get her through.

Tracey took a moment before attempting an answer. Emo let out a long squeak after climbing to the peak of John's knee. Tracey smiled, shook her head. The tension dissolved with their laughter. "I'm afraid I'm with the kitten on this one." She finally said, with a soft laugh.

"Welcome to our weird little club, Tracey." Chloe said with a smile.

"You're all very much insane. You do know that, right?"

"Oh, completely. But…we're mostly friendly, and…we have cake?"

"But really, Trace… I know it's a shit-ton of weird. Are you doing okay?"

She took her time to respond. "It's all obviously very, very impressive - what you've all managed to do, to…build. The minds…people you've surrounded yourselves with. The work being done. It's truly important work. I had no idea. This is so much larger than I thought. More substantial. I had a remarkably different impression, of you two in particular, before all of this. Unfair. Undeserved. And for that, I'm very sorry. I just…how could I?"

Chloe shrugged at her, tossed back a swig. "We're cool."

Tracey turned to John, halfway to whisper. "And I…I feel like I owe you an apology too. I've been feeling sorry for myself this past weekend. So disappointed in you for behaving this way, confused, hurt. I still don't know what you've been doing, but I have an idea now. I can't fit it all in my head. But…what could you have said to me before today that would have made it make any sense at all?"

John took her hand. "I'm sorry too. Does it make any more sense now?"

"Yes. No. Maybe? Not at all. If I'm being honest, I still don't really believe half of what I've been presented with today. It's part of the hazing, right? Maybe the reality of what I've seen makes up for all this crazy packaging? I don't know. You're all lunatics. Maybe I'm crazy too. Maybe it doesn't matter what I believe or don't believe? Or…"

Max interrupted gently, said in a soft voice, "Maybe it doesn't matter. But you don't need to struggle with it either. Here." She stood, held out her hand to Tracey.

John nodded, let go. Uncertain, Tracey slowly rose to take Max's hand, glancing at the faces around her.

"Be right back." Max folded them to the roof above, cold hit skin as the last of the natural light faded behind the mountaintops.

Tracey froze, then quickly threw Max's hand from hers, took a big step away, turned in a circle, eyes wide. "What…?"

Still softly, Max explained, "It's okay. You're fine, Tracey. I just moved us up to the roof."

"But how? What did you do to me? Why don't I remember…?" she was still turning.

"Not like that. Remember. Earlier today - they told you a little about the things some of us can do, right? That was one of them. Just a quick teleportation. We moved maybe thirty feet."

"Holy shit, Max?! This is real? That was real?! What in the fucking _fuck_?"

Max nodded. "It's real, Tracey"

"But…"

"It's okay. Look, you needed to know he's not delusional, being here. None of us are. We thought it might make it easier for you if you could see for yourself. It's not always his choice to be away. Sometimes, the things we're all dealing with really are life and death. You're important to him, and he's important to us. So we're trusting you with something few people outside these walls get to see."

"Max, I…"

"Do you trust me?"

"I…I don't know. I don't know what…"

"It's okay. Just know that you're safe. Nothing bad can happen. I promise. Nothing has changed. …Here. Please. Take my hand again?" Max reached out. Tracey looked numb, but she took it.

Max took them into the light. A hot white sandy beach, diving under turquoise water in the bright sunshine. The smell of salt, small ocean waves breaking gently. Down the beach, a few vacationing families, umbrellas, beach towels and coolers. Children played in the water, splashing and laughing. Behind them, a dense palm forest.

Tracey let go, fell to her knees. She reached down to take a handful of sand. Raised it up as grains streamed between her fingers. Her eyes scanned out to the horizon and back. Up to Max. Wonder.

"Maldives." Max said. She took a handful of sand herself, threw it out into the breeze. Froze a thousand cubes of time around grains of airborne sand. Some rotated, others tumbled. She made space between them. Rotated half of the cubes clockwise around a common point, the other half counterclockwise. Tracey turned to look at the trees behind them. Back to the cubes. She didn't say a word.

Max released the sand grains back to normal time. Tracey smiled as they fell. Looked to Max.

"What am I seeing? I…don't…"

"They'll come. There's one more thing I'd like to show you before we go back, if that's okay? But you have to promise not to say anything about it to anyone. And don't try to find it on your own."

Tracey nodded.

"You, of all people, might like this…"

The sunny day faded into darkness. Cool air. _Shit. Flashlight… …shoes._ Improvising, Max opened a very small wormhole ten feet above them, the other side half a mile further up. Rotated the direction of the sphere, while sunlight and blue sky and reflected earth poured out to illuminate the cave.

Tracey scanned the room. Her eyes finally fixated on the blue orb above…

Max took a few steps, touched the wall, whispered a small greeting.

* * *

 **John** shrugged. "I hope she doesn't take her to the moon first. I don't want her head to pop."

Hector asked, "She say where she was going, Sophie?"

"Not to me. But it's Max. She'll find a good path."

"I'm curious how many paths it's going to take. How many times do you think we've relived this conversation already?"

"Why, you gettin' deja vu Hector?" Chloe winked.

"That was funnier the second time, Bizarro Smurfette."

John felt the burning as he spit beer out his nose, fell forward. Laughing, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve, dabbed at the table. "Dude, you gotta warn me…"

Even Sophie laughed on that one, covering her mouth.

"Fuck all of you." Chloe saluted them with a majestic pair of migrating birds.

Hector just nodded, leaned back, smiling, smug.

"Okay…gotta admit, that was quality, dude…" Chloe shook her head, laughed. "You've been sittin' on that one for a while, haven't you?"

Max and Tracey appeared in the open space halfway to the kitchen. John leaned around, arm over the back of the sofa.

"That was _incredible!"_ gushed Tracey.

Hector noted "Still has a head. Good sign."

"Oh, the places you'll go…" whispered Chloe.

John asked "Where'd you guys get to?"

Tracey rushed over to John. "You'll never believe, well I guess maybe you would, _but it was amazing!_ _We were on the roof, then on a beach in the Maldives, then in this beautiful cave with these paintings of animals and plants and…she showed me pictures of alien birds on her phone, John! Alien. Birds!_ "

"I think she blew a breaker." Chloe got up.

Hector shrugged. "Prolly get her a beer?"

Chloe was already headed to the kitchen. "On it."

" _You guys do this every single day? How in the world…_ "

"Breathe, hon."

Chloe tapped John with a green bottle. "Here. Feed her this."

"Has anyone seen Emo?" asked Sophie.

Hector looked around. "He was just here."

Two hummingbird drones flew around the room. High and low.

Tracey watched them both. Squinted. "Wait… There are…"

Chloe sat back down. "Under the dining table."

"Got him. Thanks Chlo." Max picked up Emo and walked back over to the group.

Tracey looked from face to face. "But… hummingbirds…"

"Here, take a sip."

"John - it's all real! Everything they said… it's… _holy shit._ "

* * *

 **Tracey** leaned back into John, beer three. "…then it was that little girl? Not you?"

"Alena, yeah. I just took the fragments out. She did the hard part."

"So now she's internet famous for all the wrong reasons… And…regular famous too, I guess. Unreal. I…I should thank her. The implications of this are staggering. I mean, medicine alone… curing diseases, healing people beyond medical help… People who need transplants, my god, why are we not staffing our trauma centers with people like her?"

"Well, we're still very, very rare." said Sophie. "Healers even more so."

John added, "I've worked for organizations in the past who've exploited people with talents like that for their own ends. They'd only ever documented a hundred to a hundred-fifty worldwide since sometime in the early 1900's. But practices like that pushed a lot of other talents into hiding. Our best guess now, it's anywhere from five hundred to a few thousand worldwide, but we still don't know for sure."

"Maybe we should start a Facebook group after all?" volunteered Chloe with a smirk.

"You actually qualify now, Chloe." said Hector, tipping up his beer.

"Yeah, but that's totally different. I wasn't born with mine."

Tracey paused. "Wait - you have powers too?"

"Yeah, you were kindof out of it. I should have said. When I pulled the bullets out, I didn't exactly use my hands." Chloe lifted her beer off the table to her lips, hands free.

Tracey just stared. "Jesus." She looked at John. "Anything you want to tell me?"

"Nope."

"No lurking superpowers?"

"Nope. I'm no superhero. I just work for them."

"…with them." corrected Max.

"And I don't know… he kindof is. I mean, if you can call Batman a superhero, John definitely qualifies. It's all training and toys and tech, but…" said Hector.

"You know, you're right. We should totes get him a little honorary flappy cape or something!"

John rubbed his eyes. "You guys aren't helping."

"I have two conflicting thoughts." Tracey said.

"That's so not weird around here."

"With what you can all do - why do you bother with any of this at all?"

"Fun fact. Superpowers don't automatically make people sociopaths." Chloe volunteered.

"Sorry. I'm not being eloquent. Not what I meant. Everything you're doing with your company - I mean, go. You're going to change everything, as you should. But I meant why do you bother with these little games you play in secret, with these little network people or whatever. This back and forth bullshit. New Year's party crashers. Why haven't you put all of this out in the open? Why doesn't everyone know about all of this already? The public, I mean. About them, about you?"

"I like her more and more." said Sophie.

"Hate to say it love, but…we didn't pay her or anything."

Max shook her head. "I really, really don't wanna do a fucking podcast."

"Or better yet - why do you allow them to exist at all? My god. With what's at stake? If that's all really real too? Max, with a fraction of what you alone can do, you could truly take over tomorrow. Rule the world. Just say it is, and it's so. Anyone who disagrees with the plan gets moved to another world or…something. I'm not saying you should, but I'm saying you _could_. I mean, at the very least, to hell with these pissants and their spanners. This is the future of the whole entire world. You should just come out and tell everyone. Shout it from the rooftops. Make it bright. You're playing subtle and there's no reason to. You could go anywhere in history; you could go anywhere in time or space. I mean, why fight from the shadows? Shine a light on these fuckers for everyone to see. Then kick their arses off this globe. Why play this little game at all? You can _perform_ miracles, for fuck's sake. Sorry, I mean…you're…proof. You're the answer to everything people have been asking basically forever. You showed me a picture of bird with four wings. From _another_ world. On your bloody phone. Are there other worlds with life? I didn't know. But you took fucking pictures like it was a Saturday at the beach."

She caught Chloe smiling as she sipped her beer.

"Then there are the things you can do. Travel through time? I can't fathom…those soap bubble cube things? Why are you even paying taxes? You're near enough a god on Earth. All you have to do is say it. Prove it. Show them what's going to happen. Who's responsible. You'd wake up to _billions_ of followers tomorrow."

Max sighed, resigned. "Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"It's probably true for any of you. You could own this world if you wanted. There's nothing anyone could do to stop you."

Max took a sip of bubbly water. "And that's exactly why I won't do it, Tracey. This isn't about me. It's about you. Them. Everyone. Sophie shared an idea with a few of us recently. That this might not be won or lost with powers alone, exactly. Hearts and minds of people, I don't know. Maybe being out in the open would help. Maybe it would create more distractions. I gave it a shot once and had really mixed reactions from people. But I know for sure that if we can help people where they can't yet help themselves, and help them steadily expand the areas where they can help themselves over time… It's a better way. Taking over, not so much. Too much work anyway. And…I'm not sure I'm really the answer to anything. I'm just one person. A very old person, maybe. With a few tricks. Okay fine, whatever. But, even if we went that way, it would be better if it was Chloe. She's got the brains for it."

Chloe put a hand out. "Hard pass. Brains don't equal wisdom. Still working on temperament. I'm…I can't fucking believe I'm saying this out loud, but…I'm not a good fit for Supreme Galactic Overlord either."

Sophie touched Chloe's arm. "That might be one of the wisest things I've heard you say. You might still be on your way."

"Trace, power does bring responsibility." Max said. "It's why we're working so hard to try to help. But…it also has to be self-aware. And others-aware. Has to understand and even embrace limits. None of us here have what you might call a super-respect for authority. We've all seen how that goes wrong. And I'm thankful we don't, cause it means that none of us wants to _be_ the authority either. We're sharing this world with everyone else. They should get a say. And feel like they played a part. If we can manage down the damage the bad guys can do while we help the rest grow into what they could be, that's mission accomplished I think. Least for me."

Max looked over to Chloe. "I just…want a quiet, normal, boring life. That's all any of this has been about for me. We had it once. Twice, I guess. Now I'm trying to get back to a world where we can chill, where everyone else will be okay too. You know?"

It became quiet for a moment, each of them with their own thoughts.

John raised his bottle.

Each slowly raised their drinks as they noticed.

Eyes met. Nothing spoken.

* * *

 **Max** lay in bed, scratching Emo between his ears.

"He's super tuckered out. Nice job, Chloe."

"The power of drones." Chloe came out of the bathroom, went over to the dresser and opened up the bottom drawer. The one full of Max's fuzzy socks and PJs. She walked over to the bed, picked up Emo. "Who's the sleepy little monster now?" She made a little nest among the socks, kissed him on his head and set him down in it. He curled up into a ball almost immediately, purred quietly. Little paws doing their thing. She lifted a PJ leg over him like a pink blanket before returning to Max. "What? What's wrong?"

Max sat up. She didn't know how to say it exactly. _Just stumble it out._ "I want him up here with us."

"But he loves…loved the sock drawer. That was like his…what, like his third favorite thing?"

"I know, but that's where we trained him to be. We didn't know then. Not yet. About the healing I mean. The first time. It's one thing…I've always regretted it. If we'd known, maybe we could have kept him closer more. That's all it would have taken, I know it. Maybe he wouldn't have died so young. I mean, we have a second chance with him, Chlo. I didn't… I…don't want to lose him again is all…" She felt the sadness behind her eyes. "Not when we just got him back…"

"Oh my god, no, baby… I'm so sorry… I meant to say something sooner. Shit. He's fine. He's gonna be fine. No…" Chloe walked across the bed on her knees to Max, brought her up into a hug.

"I know more than last time too, Max. He would have died that first day if we hadn't been there. You, I mean…you know what I mean. Look, I ran a few tests over the weekend. His kidney problems…they're congenital. If he hadn't died that day, he wouldn't have lived more than a year on his own. If it hadn't been for you. Even though he slept away from us, all that time you spent with him…it extended his natural life like seven times…"

"So it would totally work again, right? Only if he sleeps up here too…"

"Yeah, Max. It would work. Falls off at the inverse square of the distance and all. So anywhere within five or six feet would be okay. I can go get him if you want. But that's what I'm trying to tell you. He's gonna be fine either way. This time, it's maybe my turn to help him a little."

Max pulled back. "What do you mean?"

"I remember losing him too. And I…well, I sorta gave him his own little army of repair dudes. That's their whole entire job - keep him healthy and strong and good. And…all that's left for us is the keeping him happy part."

Max kissed Chloe, rested her head against her shoulder. Let out a little breath. "Have I told you how much I love you?"

"Every day…"

"Good."

They held like that for a minute before Max slid out from under the covers. She went over to the drawer. _Hey, fluff._ Carefully scooped him up, brought him back to the bed. "He's still a kitten. He's…only just beginning. I want him with us. Just for a little while. But…we'll leave the drawer open, just in case he decides he wants it?"

She lay on her side, big spoon to Emo's little spoon. Chloe behind her, kissed the back of her neck softly. Whispered in her ear, "You're a good kitty mama, Max."

"You too Chlo…"


	7. Lead balloons

**Max** glanced down at her phone. 9:10 am. _Five more minutes 'til go-time._ She stood up to stretch, only a few feet from the mossy edge of the cliff. _It's really peaceful up here. So much life._ Tropical bugs and birds and frogs sang over each other in the background. Or maybe they were just calling each other names. It was hard to tell. They seemed enthusiastic, whatever their intent.

Around her, dense green rainforests covered the surrounding hills, abruptly flattening to checkered farmland on the wide valley floor below. The clouds closed in, right on schedule.

An agricultural shell company purchased the land and upgraded the roads early last year. Connected them to wide ramps hidden beneath cover structures and behind barn doors. The passages plunged several stories underground to the fabrication and pre-assembly areas. Almost all of the prep work had been done below, nearly all of that automated. The farms continued above, undisturbed. The rock she'd removed to create the workspaces ended up as a new fish habitat in the waters offshore to the west. Nothing wasted.

She yawned. The sun disappeared, throwing it all into shadow. She tapped her earpiece. "Time-check. Three minutes. Everybody good down there, Jorge?"

A static break. "Business as usual, boss. We're ready any time. Over."

Her phone ticked down the final two. "Counting down from five seconds. Good luck in there!"

Static. "See you."

 _And clear…_

Max shifted the valley into high speed, fell backward into the sofa, kicking her legs out. Her earpiece popped once, went silent. She'd be up here for another forty-five minutes. _No reason to be uncomfortable._ She reached over and pulled an iced coffee from the portable cooler beside her, twisting the lid. Sipped. She'd been awake for a few hours already, but it was still only 6am at home. She valiantly fought back another yawn, lost.

Inside the bubble, down in the valley, a year would pass. A little over eight days for each minute on the outside. She had a wide traversable gradient between the two timeframes, so there was no visible hard edge over the valley. Just a persistent optical distortion. That cross-fade allowed heat, air and any wildlife along the borders to pass without problems, while leaving a means for workers to make their way out for any emergencies they couldn't handle. There were only a few hundred people inside. The wide variety of specialty bots outnumbered those three to one.

She set up a second gradient - this one wide, flat and horizontal - placed high above the valley. Time inside ran much more slowly. If she had it right, the two layers would overlap when seen from above, masking the heat bloom for any spy-sats monitoring through the clouds in infrared.

She picked up her guitar, absently strummed a few chords to accompany the wildlife. Vibrations in time…

After only a couple of minutes, she could see the assembly structures begin to take shape. Gantries and cranes, supportive latticework. Hours flew by each second. She wouldn't see any people; they were too far away and moving too fast. But some of the big robotic helpers would stick to one place for a while - she saw a few pop in and out. Like watching a time-lapse…

 _Yes. Because it's actually a time lapse, genius…_

 _Sigh. Least I'm awake enough to crack myself up. Alone. In a forest. On a couch. Random. Okay, maybe not completely alone I guess._ "Aww. Hey there, li'l guy. You a local, or one of ours?"

The hummingbird landed on the highest tip of her guitar's headstock. Its belly all shimmering green iridescence. Its tail ended in two long skinny stalks with round deedley-boppers on the ends, like tiny racquets. She smiled, delighted. It preened its left wing briefly before darting away in a blur.

 _Native, I guess. Thanks for hanging out. Guess we must all seem like a time lapse to you…_

Her fingers returned, picked out a slow happy melody as her mind wandered.

She'd thought about it a few times over the years. The correlation between the size of a critter and the rate of its heartbeat. Thermodynamics, surface to mass ratios. All played their part. But as she understood it, the average lifespan for any animal was about a billion heartbeats. So smaller ones with the faster hearts tended to live shorter lives than the larger ones. But they also had shorter runs of nerve fibers, smaller distance across the brain, faster metabolisms. Their vision, awareness, decision making, and movements were all sped up… Evolutionary advantages. Perceiving more information per unit of time, and able to act on it. Flies, hummingbirds, mice. Nervous. Darty. At the other end of the scale, elephants, whales, plodding along in slow motion, seemingly unconcerned. People somewhere between.

It was like the less mass or inertia you had, the faster your journey through time relative to the others. They'd all experience a similarly full lifespan in their own internal frame of reference though. _So many lives sharing the same spaces, but traveling through time at wildly different rates… Let's not even get into plants and trees and stuff…_

Maybe what she was doing below wasn't so weird after all.

* * *

 **Chloe** sipped at her coffee, feet up on the table. Emo stretched out, upside down between her knees. Couldn't possibly be comfortable, but he purred away. She rubbed his fuzzy little belly. He trapped her hand, kicking with his back legs and gnawing at her fingertips for all he was worth. It was cute, but she didn't want to encourage biting. Took a while to break him of that last time.

"Boop."

Chloe booped him on the nose. Scratched his chin. He settled down, stretched. Back to air-biscuits…

Sun wasn't up yet, but the eastern sky was beginning to lighten.

She heard Max get up to leave a couple of hours ago, felt her soft minty kiss goodbye. She'd be back in a couple of hours. _Maybe in time for a late breakfast._ Chloe would hold off, just in case.

On one glass wall, she'd superimposed ten screens of news. Quick morning scan. She didn't really need to project them, but there was something about using her eyes and ears. Anachronistic. Comforting in a way.

Usual horror show mixed in with the usual trivial bullshit garbage. A town recaptured from insurgents, who'd taken it from loyalists, who'd 'liberated' it from the same insurgents months before. Each new wave of violence rolling over the people who actually lived there. The ones left, anyway. What had been home to generations of families was mostly rubble. Not for the first time in history, unfortunately.

A new definition of 'normal' imposed from outside. She understood the tragedy of that acceptance. Second hand, but no less real. The quick sharp grief of watching everything you thought you had, that illusion of stability and normalcy that seemed so solid… the safety of loved ones… all gone in a span of days. Anger and grief on hold as survival asserted its demands. Fight. Flight. Or hunker down?

For their final house in Seattle, later this century, it was fire. Rioters, angry beyond reason, but not without reason. Again. The push. The shove. Violence from a small number hidden inside the larger group of people. Then the hard authoritarian push back. Familiar pattern. There was nothing Max could do about the macro. Movements of history. Get them out of the way. That was it. Mostly.

Even the fire was too big. Whole neighborhood went up. She managed to push a rewind close enough to the beginning, ran back into the inferno to find an unburned picture. Sleeve on fire, choking on hot smoke, she used it to photo-jump - went back two weeks to give Chloe a warning. It gave them time to pack up, move their stuff into storage across town at least. They tried to warn folks that something bad was coming, but…why should anyone believe them? Max was relieved to find them in a motel across the city when returned from the jump weeks later. TV tuned to the destruction in their old neighborhood. Devastating, but still better than the alternative she'd left.

More than a few close calls over the years. Each was different.

They'd always come out okay. Many didn't. There were almost always survivors. The grief, the sorrow, the numb of taking in what remained. It showed in their eyes, mostly. After. Just like she was seeing on the screens in front of her. She'd seen it too many times. Different for each person. But the same in every era. Try to understand what happened. Try to rebuild, or pick up and go? How to even begin? Who was still here? Who was left to help bury the dead? Do the work of repair or rebuilding? How could they pay them? How long would the calm last until the next whatthefuckever? Where else could they go that was any different, and could they make the journey? How could they possibly leave their loves, their lost dead behind? What choice did they have?

Made her sad. And a little angry at the repeating patterns. The people most affected were always the least involved. No one wanted that to be their world… But…everything was so fragile, really. A series of unspoken shared agreements. Honored until they broke down...

 _We were so much younger then. If we could go back and do it all over again as we are now, shit would go a lot different…_

 _Oh. Wait…I'm an idiot…_

The various broadcasts on the glass segued roughly from one human tragedy to another, broken only by enthusiastic ads for new cars or toilet paper… Then the inevitable shift to tattling celebrity gossip, with no sense of shame or irony.

Nothing new on any front. Only the names ever changed.

Long term prevention. Redefining civilization. Picking up the pieces when they fell. Chloe knew in her heart it was the right strategy. But…none of that made it go away for those people, right there, right now… It was fucked up. They mattered too.

 _You're not responsible for all the lives you couldn't save…_ Something she'd said to Max once. Must have been a lifetime ago.

 _Take your own advice, dude._

 _Yes, but…don't you think you might have saved more? If you'd tried a little harder? Been a little better?_

 _…stop._

She noted the name of the town. Maybe there was something they could do for the beleaguered survivors. Food. Water. Something.

 _Or maybe a goddamn superhero style airdrop like a motherfuckin' boss - tell both sides to clear the fuck out… Wanna kill each other? Plenty of empty space twenty miles that way. Have at it, jackasses… Just stop rollin' through other people's houses…_

She didn't want to be a dick, exactly - and she recognized the irony of the observation, given her core anti-authority vibe. But some of these fuckers clearly needed a kick in the ass - and some long-term adult supervision…

* * *

 **Max** checked the progress against the clock. About the halfway point for each, so that was a good sign things were on track. The black exterior of the cube was nearly finished. Build progress of the internal floor plans would closely follow along under the finished shell. Like putting together a gigantic 3d puzzle.

Other detail work would take a little longer. Plumbing, power, air systems, fit and finish on the interior spaces; the twin hamster wheels nestled just inside opposing faces; each spanning five coaxial stories in radius, twenty feet in width. The outermost levels would simulate half of earth's gravity at three revolutions per minute, but they'd probably stick to two for comfort. The rest of the station was designed for microgravity.

After the finishing touches, they had months of shakedown testing planned before operations could safely begin. _Skywatch_ was destined for orbit around the sun at the second Lagrange point - a million miles away, in the permanent shadow of the earth. Mix of low-G and zero-G R &D, manufacturing, observation, pure science. Build bays to construct components for the next generation stations and craft…

Mining. Space-docks. Mega-blimps bound for Venus. A system for draining dangerous radiation from the Van Allen belts around Earth… Busy schedule.

Had to start somewhere.

Set against the wide valley below, it didn't appear all that imposing. A little more than a hundred-twenty feet on each side; about the profile of a ten story office building. Deceptively heavy here on earth though. Internal steel walls bulked up along the up-down axis to help distribute the load of the sky-side during construction, with the side benefit of playing nice with magnets once the station went live. By the time they were done, it would weigh more than the largest aircraft carrier ever built.

Mostly because of the external shell. It was structural, but pulled double-duty as passive shielding. The innermost layer was half of the shell's total thickness; six feet of programmable, structurally reinforced concrete. Thin layers of ceramic insulated copper strips were next. Two feet of lead plating over that accounted for more than half the total mass. And once in orbit, the three-foot layer of water contained in the inches-thick skin of the plastic bladders would play out the balance. She'd fill each of the six water layers by wormhole after it was up. Each self-healing material layer was tuned for a different range of threats, even the thick plastic of the liner. In total, the composite shielding would protect everything inside from the high energy particles and many forms of solar and cosmic radiation they'd encounter in space. Micrometeoroids to high energy iron nuclei…secondary x-ray scatters to…nearby nukes…whatever.

Possibly overkill, but they also wanted the freedom to move it around the solar system without stopping to retrofit for safety before each new stop. Mostly modern materials and construction techniques. Meant they could begin without having to wait years for production of the exotic stuff to scale up.

Space wasn't kind to life, and Chloe had designed them a well-insulated tank. It was the kind of hardened station no sane engineer on earth would ever think to build. At the lowest aspirational commercial cost of a thousand dollars a pound, it would take more than two-hundred-billion just to lift the raw materials and components into orbit with conventional rockets. At the current prices charged by government launch programs, ten times that.

Fortunately, Max was their space program, so none of that mattered.

 _And I'm fueled by coffee, bitches._

Reminded, she paused her musical noodling to take a sip, glanced down at her phone again.

 _Twenty minutes…_

* * *

 **James** Andersen maintained his state of relative defocus, limiting his attentions to an ambient self-awareness and the most obvious physical sensations of the here and now, without judgement or analysis. One. Nothing. Same. Imperfect, but… a state of moving inexorably toward statelessness.

His cell was the inside of a ball. White. Lit from above, uniform diffusion. Neutral temperature. A slightly outset door to the front. He found that almost any small sound he produced would resonate in this cavity. The room itself reflected and refocused him back to himself. Everything about his environment assisted in his meditations.

He sat in an easy lotus position, feet resting on opposite thighs. For the past indeterminate block of time, he'd balanced with his arms down, carrying all of his weight on thumbs and two fingers of each hand. It was his first time in a reduced gravity environment. He didn't think about what or how. Didn't bring any questions into focus.

Just acknowledged the lightness of being.

Breath and heart the waves of the universe.

Consciousness and existence the twin mirrors of his reality…

* * *

 **Max** popped back home around 10am, Vegas time. An hour after delivering the first shakedown crew to their new orbital platform, and a half hour after finishing up with the human build crew in Ecuador. She set her guitar in its stand, next to the side table in their bedroom. Checked the message box out of habit. Empty.

Emo sprawled sideways, climbing a sun patch in slow motion across their puffy bedcovers. Tiny motes drifted sideways through the sunbeam.

She kicked off her shoes, crawled in next to him for a shared cat nap. By the time she woke up, the sun patch was on the floor, nearly back outside. Emo was on her hip, playing king of the hill. Paws tucked in front, eyes mostly closed, purring softly. The tiniest and fuzziest of cat-loafs.

 _D'aww._

She looked at the clock. Noon. _Oops._ Longer than she meant to, but no big deal. She stretched, rewound, watched the sun patch race back onto the bed, stopping at her arrival time. She rolled off the other way, leaving Emo sprawled sideways, sleepy, still chasing the light.

She stretched again on her way to the door, called out in a half yawn, "Hey Chloe - you home?" She'd prolly be in her office or some random downstairs lab helping out with some project or another.

A faraway voice, "Hey! In here, Max."

The bedroom gave way to Chloe's office as Max lazily folded across the small distance between them. Chloe sat forward in her red chair, chin on her hands, half a dozen holos projected in empty space.

"Whatcha doing?" asked Max, leaning in from the side to give her a quick hello kiss. Looked like architectural models.

Chloe turned her head to nuzzle for a sec. "Hey… uh, chores mostly. Everything go okay?"

"Yeah. All good. We're the proud owners of a shiny new super-secret space fort. I mean, it's not actually shiny, but you know what I mean."

Chloe shrugged. "And only secret 'til someone notices it. I give it a few days, tops."

"That fast you think?" Max leaned against the desk.

"Yup. Stealth in space isn't really a thing. You saw the observatory satellites hanging out there, right? Herschel, WMAP, Planck and the others?"

"Well, I mean, space is pretty big - and it's…night out there all the time, so…no? I'm just the time shifter and heavy lifter, yo."

Chloe laughed, leaned back. "Well, okay, so there's a handful of other sats out there where you parked. We're pretty massive, and L2's only metastable, so our gravity's gonna tug them around. People running them will have to correct the drift eventually if we don't do it for them. So they'll notice for sure. And then there's amateurs with telescopes scanning the skies all the time. We're on the dark side, so no bright optical blips, but we'll transit a star or something at some point. Matter of time. That, and for any semi-pros, we're pretty much a giant fucking flare in infrared, so…there's that."

"Should we work a cover story with Jillian or something? We haven't really talked about this part."

"Yeah - no, we did, but you weren't in any of those threads I don't think. We could. But another option is to not claim it."

"…and let people think it's a UFO or something? That seems kinda mean."

"They'll assume it's military. Somebody's. Darkstar shit or something. Happens all the time. NASA and ESA are the only ones who'll have a guesstimate at our mass 'cause of their own sat corrections. And they'll be annoyed, but probably assume the same thing. We don't have to do anything now. Plan was to let it ride. See where it goes, if it goes anywhere at all. Streisand effect, etc."

"Fair enough."

"Besides, it's not like anyone else can get up there to look in a window or anything."

"Thought your people didn't use windows 'cause they were structural weaknesses?"

"Comedian." The holos went dark. Chloe swiveled. "So - more later?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay. Switching topics - still good for our little afternoon adventure?"

Max stood up straight, chin high. "I am. Took a power-nap just now, and made snack kits for us before I left this morning. Everything's in the fridge ready to roll. It's _so_ on."

Chloe got up, tucked her chair under the desk. "Wow. Didn't expect that. I didn't think you were all that into this?"

"What? We'll be hanging out. I'm good. Come on, Chloe. I tease you, but you know… If you're happy, I'm happy. And I know how much you're looking forward to this. Of course we'll have fun. Duh. Besides, what could possibly go wrong?" Max gave her a playful look before taking her hand to pull her out of the office and down the hall.

"You had to fucking say it…"

"You know I'll always hold your beer, Chloe." She turned back to send her an air kiss.

Chloe laughed as they headed off to the kitchen. "Funny… But yeah - this is gonna rule. I mean, it's like legit historical mystery shit, dude. I really am curious 'bout what we'll find…"

Max considered. "Probably a lot of grumpy shooty dudes in army pants? And at the end, some dusty old storage room full of file cabinets and musty paper about failed airplane designs from the long long ago…"

Chloe let go of Max, moved to the fridge. "Wow. Scully much?" She collected the snack kits into a bag, continued enthusiastically, "Peanut butter and celery? You're so cute. And I don't know, I was thinking more like the entrance to an underground alien city, or…a galactic command center, or…or maybe a Stargate or something!"

"Wait… I thought that was in Cheyenne Mountain?"

"Yeah, no, it is. But the second gate…"

"…Antarctica. Right. Stored at Area 51. But didn't they drop that into a star? Destroyed a whole system? Never mind."

"Anyway… It's Area fucking 51."

"…adjacent." added Max.

"Yeah, okay, so S4's one hill over, big whoop. But I mean, there's gotta be something there, right? At least a torn apart UFO anti-gravity drive maybe?"

"Maybe. But you'll be in charge of translating if we run into any mechanics who don't speak Earthican."

"Deal. So I was thinking we'd drive. Least part-way. We can stop for lunch, if that's cool?" Chloe paused.

"You know I could eat. In town?"

Chloe leaned on the counter, "No. There's a little stop off about half way, out on the Extraterrestrial Highway. Diner. Little A'le'Inn?"

Max smiled. Nodded. "Of course there is. Wait, was that the place in 'Paul'?"

"Yep. So goddamn fantastic. They have a pool table too! Almost as excited to go there as the real deal. I want a mug. And… maybe an alien blow-up doll if they have them…"

"…wow."

Chloe shrugged. "Hey. Don't judge. I didn't give you shit last week when you made me braid my hair back for your Spectre and Shadow Broker role-play…"

Max bit her lower lip, blinked at Chloe. "Yeah… not sayin' another word."

* * *

 **Chloe** merged onto the highway onramp. Snacks packed, Max in the passenger seat, they'd pulled out of the garage exit a few minutes ago. Given the potential for unpaved-roads, she'd thought about dirt bikes. Didn't figure Max would go for it. Range Rover made the most sense. And they'd be able to hear each other, which was a bonus.

The sun was behind them, halfway up the bright blue sky.

Chloe glanced toward Max. "Oh, so tell me more about this morning?"

Max put her sneakered feet up on the dash. "Like I said, it went good. I really like it down there. Locals were super friendly, and the countryside was so pretty. Met a real hummingbird. So that was cool."

"Mary fucking Poppins over here…" Chloe shook her head with a grin.

"Heh. Anyway, to watch it go together, pretty much right before my eyes… I don't know. Even for me, stuff like that never gets old."

"Any advice from the foreman dudes before you bailed?" Chloe was curious to see if they'd run into any real problems.

"Yeah. Checked in with them after. You'll get the logs and talk to them and stuff yourself too, I guess. Seemed like they were worried about it all coming together at first. But in the end, Jorge said it was more like assembling a giant watch than anything else. Complicated, but everything fit in its place."

"That was a watch pun? Right? Complications? Nevermind. They say how the bots did? Working around people I mean?"

"Saul seemed pretty impressed. Mostly went on about their teamwork, and how fast and accurate they were compared to what a person could do. Not sure how the workers felt, not that it matters to them now, I guess. But, I think seeing it all made him a little sad for the future of human labor."

"I'm sure. It's gotta be weird, going from tons of people building subs to this, right? A navy shipyard is not the same thing as a jungle time-bubble full of robots building a space station."

Max laughed. "Yeah. No. Not remotely, when you put it like that. But, you know, he did say, and I quote, 'If this was an all meat crew, it would have taken eight times as long to end up half as true.'"

"So that's a compliment I guess… And what about our resident ESA sat-dude? Pelu? Fuck, that guy was a grumpy motherfucker in meetings."

"He cried a little."

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah - it was kindof sweet."

"I don't get it. Why? All he does is build space shit…"

"I think that's kinda why, actually. We talked a little. You know, the guy spends his whole career pushing tiny probes into space. But his generation, I guess grew up right around the moon landings. He, uh…said everyone thought it was gonna be like the real beginning of this major historical shift. The future, with a big capital 'F', you know? Like there was no doubt we'd have people living in cities out there by now. But after a few trips to the moon, everything just sorta stopped. Forty plus years of bus drivers servicing low earth orbit, but… leaving the rest behind like an abandoned dream…without a really good explanation."

"Well, okay. That I can understand. I mean, you know how I feel about flying cars…" Chloe said.

"Right? But to come from there, go through that, and then to head up a build on something…like this…"

"Back on track signal, maybe? So part real, but mostly symbolic?"

"Yeah. I don't know. It was like tears of almost gratitude mixed with a real sort of hope for what's next. Excitement more. A first new step. Optimism. I didn't expect that. Should have, maybe. Everything was so brand new to everyone at the end of the last loop, so people's reactions to our little satellite rocket launches weren't mixed with that same sort of nostalgia on top of it, you know?" Max looked outside.

Chloe noticed the traffic thinning out. "I think sometimes you and I underestimate the way a lot of this shit makes people feel... So, what, it's got you maybe rethinking the whole 'secret' part of the secret fort, or?"

"Yeah. I don't know. I mean, I know why. But kinda, I don't know…"

Chloe shrugged. "My hero. Eloquent _and_ decisive." She smiled and turned to Max.

"I hate you."

"Heh. You love me and you know it… And no rush on figuring out the whole secret identity versus not thing. Not like any of these decisions have consequences - beyond potential redo-loop time for you."

"That's so not true. I mean, it's still real for everyone while it's real. And for me. And we know at least one branch continued on its own after I left, so… Still have to take care not to keep forking the universe."

"So not picking that one up. Anyway, you know where I am on this secrecy stuff, my deerest lord… So…" Chloe laughed, tapped out a rim-shot on the steering wheel. "Related topic - how much space-cash do you owe me after the rollback?"

Max sighed. "Right. Uh…seven dollars."

"Seven? Wait. Really? Not 8 or 6? What happened? Someone die? Or was there a threesome? It was totally a threesome wasn't it?"

Max looked out to the highway. They were leaving the edge of the city. "No. You were right. There were like four couples. Three of them wanted to keep their year inside together, after it was done. I totally get it. I would if it was us."

"What happened with the last two peeps?"

"Ah. Apparently she thought they were only together because it was gonna be erased anyway. So after the job, she joined everyone else getting spun back. She…wanted to forget. He chose to remember anyway. Even after learning that she wouldn't."

"Shit. That's fucked up. So he lost a year to keep the memories of a girl who chose to forget him?"

"I know, right? I don't know. Anyway, seven bucks. I'll…hit you back later."

"K. Don't…make me send tiny people to collect."

"I'm good for it. But…wait…what do you mean 'tiny people'?!"

"I know where you live, Caulfield."

"That's…creepy, and…really not an answer…"

* * *

 **Jacob** rubbed his eyes. They'd been debating among themselves since the start of the conference call. Nearly a hundred petulant little squares spread across three monitors… They represented the subset of major houses in the Americas that had felt _her_ influence in one way or another. All the more irritating in the abstract, with their voices heavily modulated natural language or machine translations, their faces represented by animated cartoon avatars. Another simple layer of obfuscation. The streams were encrypted, which would flag them for intercept at the backbone. But the lightly encrypted wrapper would crack first, revealing code marking these as privileged conversations to be purged from tracking systems, unread.

Jacob knew most of them, and some knew each other's identities independently. But for now, they referred to each other by their temporary visuals. He'd given them time to express themselves, but was hearing no real evidence they'd made headway. Par. Too many. Most had the broad strokes, but not all were deeply involved in the day to day details of even their own internal hierarchies. Lots of moving parts. He had a directive for them before the end though. And a hard stop of his own in half an hour. "Apologies ladies and gentlemen. Obviously, emotions are running high. But I'll need to keep us on track with our agenda today."

An animated carrot asked, "What of Andersen? The others? You've had success locating them?"

"Unfortunately not. Operating theory is that they've found a way to block accurate readings."

A scaly lizard on the outer edge of the leftmost screen asked "How is that possible? We have responsibilities to our overseas partners. Assurances were given. What's your plan to address this failure of intelligence?"

 _I'm certain that was yours…_ Jacob self-edited before speaking more deliberately. "I'd like to keep us focused on the more fundamental issues, but I suppose this is related. What I'm hearing you ask is if I have a plan to heal your self-inflicted wounds? If it's any consolation, the Board has other concerns."

A blue boot asked, "The rest of the Board is aware?"

"Becoming. Of course. What did you expect? Andersen isn't some low IQ new-hire. He's compartmented, junior, but promising. And now his status has changed from asset to risk. And it's another unsanctioned public failure with _her_ as the objective. Raises flags of the 'what were you thinking' kind. He shouldn't have been there. There shouldn't have even been a 'there' there, if we're being complete. Which goes back to the larger topic of non-coherence.

"Your voluntary interactions with her haven't gone well. I'm using 'your' in the inclusive sense here. History repeats. But it's unclear how much of that is her, and how much has been a result of the process and management breakdowns on our end. From the start. There's a reason we have protocols for evaluating the odd emerging talents. They've proven to be tremendous assets for all of us when properly pipelined and managed. And to be fair, her first evaluation and contact team performed exceptionally well…"

"Except that they're working for her now…" said an old-timey milk bottle.

"Those that remain, yes. But it's the same trend line. Protocols apply to all of us. Mister Bear's organizations had a responsibility to follow them. Instead, he allowed a handful of lesser subordinates in the western US to run around unsupervised, fueled by a dangerous combination of ignorance, arrogance and fear. They, in turn, were too easily swayed, and their efforts ultimately redirected, by an underling's warnings and reckless enthusiasms… Collectively went off the reservation, and created a formidable enemy where we should have had a useful ally. Or at worst, a disinterested, if occasionally cooperative, third party.

"Once her _uniqueness_ had been suspected, the original teams should have been allowed to _complete_ a full and proper analysis, invisibly - or at least without provocation - before presenting their findings. The Board or upper echelons would have been consulted with the fullness of understanding, to assist in formulating a coherent, unified and considered direction, in harmony with existing plans.

"Mister Bear and his lieutenants had a responsibility to be aware, to lead, and maintain effective discipline and harmony. Not merely preside over the catastrophic failure of two operations combined by ground level subordinates. They should have stepped in at the first signs of deviation. Ensured that she was lightly quarantined until further direction came down. Or at the least, behaved in a more neutral manner. Reached some form of détente with her. All of the preliminary field assessments pointed in that direction. It was the correct advice, and should have been followed."

A yellow dandelion spoke. "We never did see a full assessment."

"That's right. We have anecdotes, video, but without comprehensive data or analysis. We know what we know, but it's not enough given the size of the gaps. Mister Bear's people ensured that when they proactively cut her evaluation short to merge with Stirling's ongoing assignment to catalyze a new wave of western defense spending."

A jaunty red bear avatar, Mister Bear, interrupted. "I'm sick of this armchair quarterbacking. I've been patient while people continue to distort facts to throw us under the bus on this. Enough. She lifted a fucking mountain. We've left her alone since. None of this current crisis was our doing. As far as I know, _none_ of the major houses in the States were even made aware until after it hit broadcast… As for the past, not one of us can manage the big picture if our focus is that far down in the weeds. We can't operate without delegation, and delegation can't operate without a measure of trust."

"And trust at our level _demands_ verification. We all walk that line. It's the 'management' part of management. If it were easy…" reminded Jacob.

"That went down a year before your father…before…you took the Chair anyway. You didn't have the raw data they were generating on her. It was obvious she was aberrant. Only just awakening to her talent, which, coupled with the apparent immensity of her power, increased the urgency to act. She posed a significant, immediate threat. They saw a small window of opportunity, took the initiative and the best shot they had. You didn't see what they were seeing in real time…"

"So they handed her a live atomic bomb. We still don't know where she's keeping it. And I'm guessing you didn't see what they were seeing in real time either, or you would have stepped in? Would be great if we could go over that information now. But…oh, that's right. The primary data collected before the incident has been systematically erased… everywhere."

"We…still have one backup set…"

"One. Which we don't dare try to access after what happened to the next-to-the-last backup. And that system had a fresh install and a hard air-gap. We still don't have any idea how she's doing that. Or if she's doing it. Which is symptomatic of the problem. Are you all seeing the pattern? Blindfolds belong on the target, not the members of the firing squad."

"What about her partner? Price?" asked a slice of frosted angel-food cake.

"What about her?" Jacob said.

"Could she be doing it? She doesn't have the transcripts, but she has a technical mindset."

"I'm certain this kind of thing takes a higher skill level than changing her grades…" said a steaming iron.

The cake answered, "That's showing your own ignorance. You haven't had to sidestep their hacking teams. They've recruited a formidable technical and scientific bench. In addition to support from other disciplines. You've all seen the footage from New Year's. It's been all over the internet. Price was the main target. Our intended catalyst to force the Caulfield girl to travel backward in time to prevent her from being killed. It was supposed to emotionally unbalance her, and provide motivation to follow the trail to Andersen's toybox alone. Now it didn't change the outcome, but none of that preventive action happened as far as we can tell. Instead, Price used some sort of advanced defensive technology we haven't seen before to save herself. What is it? Where did it come from?"

A raccoon wizard said, "Fuck that. They were allowed to publicly patent a cold fusion reactor design type none of us own or control. The design is published on the internet. Cat's out of that bag. Where did _that_ come from?"

The lizard interjected, "Science. It's not too surprising to my people. Like the cake said, they've recruited a formidable bench, active in many fields. The final straw that led to this recent ill-fated attempt to disable her. There are many more questions - how did Price walk away from the street explosion after, anyway? Much like the attack on the gallery party, it doesn't appear as though Caulfield prevented it or interfered at all… Still, she walked away on her own? How?"

Jacob responded, "This is what I'm getting at. Rogue actions based on insufficient intel have to stop. They aren't working. You believe teaming up with each other makes up for that, gives you legitimacy. But it doesn't. You don't even know what you don't know right now. And as an aside to Mister Bear, I need to apologize. I wasn't trying to throw you under the bus earlier. I only used you for illustration purposes. The others are up next. I think we all know how things can break in the real world. But we don't get to live through too many excuses at this altitude.

"End of the day, if she'd been left alone two years ago, she'd be living a quiet life of ignorance with no reason to suspect we existed at all. Our superiors would have had concrete assessments and a wider range of options for dealing with her. And she wouldn't have felt any push into this disruptive social entrepreneurship crusade she's on. None of our precogs saw that coming - and left unchecked, it'll prove far more damaging to our collective futures than her talents alone would be."

"One is the threat protecting the other…" said a rainbow sno-cone.

"True enough. And I know that's what some of you are reacting to. For what it's worth, the Board and upper echelons are concerned about this as well.

"Many of you were critical of how she'd been handled in the past, but the most recent events are an extension of this same sort of breakdown. Deliberately, this time. It's a result of poor judgement and unilateral action, taken in a region outside any of your mandates, without coordination or Board approval. My predecessor remained a singular voice of reason on this issue here in the Americas. A consistent advocate for a non-confrontational path - pending determination of the proper course by the hierarchy. As Regional Chair, and by protocol, that should have been enough for all of you.

"But you ignored process, ignored the hierarchy, schemed sideways beyond your stations, went outside the roles and direction you inherited - and with less understanding than we had before, enflamed the situation further with a series of very public actions that had little chance of success. This time, to Andersen's assurances."

"But…"

Jacob hard-muted the carrot. "Please understand, this isn't an attack - it's a level set. This house has always advocated for all of your interests with the Board, and will continue to do so. We're beyond inter-family squabbles. In the Board's eyes, we're all to blame for where we are. The higher echelons don't care to discriminate, and some are now paying close attention. I shouldn't have to say this, but we really don't want to remain the focus of their attention."

The lizard remained quiet. The frosted cake slice spoke up. "We are where we are. She and her blind little mice have been stumbling into critical interests and operations around the world. And she's threatened to completely destabilize it with these wild energy goals. We're already seeing a chilling effect on new long term investments. She's pushing out from the US. The local houses did nothing. None of the supposed higher ups took action. We were getting a lot of pressure from our peers overseas. What else could we do?"

Jacob responded. "Like my father, I've vocally disagreed with your direction on this in the past, but I do understand how you all got there. And between you and me, I know the Board does too. And, if it had worked, we'd all be having a very different sort of conversation right now. But…it didn't."

A trout chimed in. "Since we're flying close to the sun here… What happened before, accepted. That error clearly belongs with regional leadership in the US, despite protestations. But since 2014, her recruitment of talents, expanding operations, and commercialization of objects of political and economic chaos have all moved well beyond the borders of the States… We have a shared responsibility to protect the parts we've been entrusted with - and when threatened, come together with others to protect the whole. And we have an absolute right to defend our own individual pursuits. As do our counterparts elsewhere in the world. We haven't behaved recklessly - we were concerned for all of our interests. Which are the hierarchy's as well. Where were they?"

Jacob said flatly, "Don't presume that you understand their motivations or process of deliberation. Their plans, our plans, unfold and adapt on the scale of decades. Centuries. Millennia. She's been a variable for a couple of years. Although certain economic and social threats loom large, her actual disruptions to date have been minor. Aside from the ones we've thrown her into. We should never have given her a reason to be on the defensive at all."

"She's gone well beyond defensive. Someone had to do something!"

"Not you. Not without guidance and coordination. Mutual alignment. Am I muted here? Translation working? Are any of you listening? And no. You gave her the reason to have her own counter-agenda, but she hasn't truly gone on the offensive yet."

"How can you say that?" asked a prickly green cactus.

"We're still here." Jacob answered. "Listen, the girl can travel through time. Presumably, backward from her own future as well. If she was to discover our identities at any point in her life, she would have shared them with herself already. That we're still here means she hasn't. So, in the future, she's either been killed, disabled or controlled. Killing her seems not to work very well. So odds are, she's being managed somehow. Which means returned to a neutral state relative to the hierarchy, or prevented from interfering in some other way. Take comfort in that. It means we win."

The cactus offered, "Or her future self knows, or feels, that she doesn't need to mess with time to get her way. It's an emerging theme in this conversation, and perhaps the more frightening thought."

Jacob replied, "You might be right of course. We'll have to see. We should sincerely hope that she can still be managed or contained. I fear what those above the Board might do otherwise. But at the very least, with benefit of hindsight, we can all hopefully agree that something in our approach needs to change. I'm letting you know those changes will be designed above our pay grade. And globally coordinated this time. You'll be informed of your parts when or if they deem it useful or necessary. They're concerned about the same things we are. The disagreement is only that you acted laterally, outside the hierarchy, and that you failed. Possibly complicating their paths to an eventual solution."

The cartoon heads were silent.

He continued. "It's the way it has to be. We inherit a certain amount of autonomy with our positions, along with the outlines of the part we and our legacies and subordinate organizations are expected to play. When everyone does what's expected, our obligations are met. And we're free to carry on with our own interests and agendas, comfortably enjoying our families, our wealth, and our privilege. Everything is in harmony, and the larger movements progress around us over generations, as they should.

"When we deviate, notes are misplayed. Timing for all is disrupted, and the greater composition unravels.

"So that's where we are now. Momentarily uncomfortable, reminded that none of us here are the largest fish in the largest sea. But we are part of a whole, and that whole can't function if everyone's off doing their own thing. I'm not criticizing anyone in particular, but she's going to take a more measured, strategic approach. If there's a message from the Board, reflecting the intentions of the upper echelons, that's it. 'Stand down'.

"They understand there will be minor disruptions until they resolve this. But you are instructed to do nothing further to annoy her. Pass it along. No offense or defense. If any of your people bump up against her, they're to quietly withdraw. It's not worth the confrontation for the moment. My peers elsewhere in the world are engaged in similar corrective conversations with your peers as we speak, so there won't be any more outside pressure. There is no latitude in this though - it really is a full stop with her."

"So. What. We sit quietly and hope she goes away?" asked an anthropomorphic coffee pot.

Jacob said, "Maybe. If that would work. No one lives forever. Otherwise, it's to your superiors to decide, as it should have been from the start. But I believe their goal is to get her back to a controllable, or at least predictable, neutral. Or permanently disrupt her ability to disrupt our collective aims and activities."

"How will they do this?"

"I can't say. I sat in on a few of the Board level ideation sessions, but I'm not sure what approach they'll all ultimately choose to take. They only asked that I relay the message to stop any further independent antagonisms. I mentioned there might be a non-confrontational way for us to calm things in the interim, however. Never occurred to any of you to simply talk with her? One to one?"

Mister Bear said in a huff, "She's a domestic problem. I'll work with a few of the other houses. We'll handle her. Make an appointment. Send Gabriel maybe. Demand that she returns Andersen to you all."

Jacob shook his head. "Or…? Or what? Have you been listening to any of this?" He'd missed Jacob's point completely. And was obviously tone-deaf to these very specific warnings.

"I said we'll handle it. We were never able to get anyone placed inside - she has some very powerful rogue talents watching the gates. But we're not morons. We have some intelligence on her, her people, some of their operations. She's working out of here anyway. It started here. Like you said, she was our responsibility."

Jacob was willing to give him his rope… "She's _their_ responsibility. But if you're confident you can de-escalate the situation while they finalize their plans - those are the guardrails. Think very hard about your approach, Mister Bear. Prepare. Consult your experts. Please. If you insist on moving forward, the continued existence of your legacy likely depends on the outcome of that meeting."

 _It's been some time since we've had a major house replaced._

 _But there's no rule that says tomorrow has to be like today…_

Jacob looked at his watch. "I apologize to you all, I only now noticed the time. I really must be going. As a closing thought, you should feel relieved at this turn of events - outside pressure is off. Let the big boys have a turn at her… Life will be back to normal in no time."

He broke connection and switched off the displays.

 _Mister Bear's conversation won't work._

 _But might create the right circumstances for another…_

* * *

 **Max** was enjoying the drive. And dedicated Chloe time. It was empty out here, but had its own beauty. Blue sky. A few high clouds now. A blur of scrub on each side of the road, with the rare stand of trees around a ranch or house. She was relaxed. Comfy. Warm. Chloe was in rare form. It was always entertaining when she was super excited about something they were about to do. It's like everything about her sped up a little.

They'd alternated playlists back and forth, and even sang a few songs on the drive… They were gonna kill at karaoke night. If there was one. She'd check in with Sophie later. It had been her idea, but a good one.

It was a little after noon when they passed through Crystal Springs, about twenty minutes back. They transitioned from 93 onto 375. The Extraterrestrial Highway. Sadly, Max was the most extraterrestrial thing out here. Despite the years they'd lived in Vegas, it was the first time they'd driven it.

Chloe had taken her on plenty of drives for fun. Hard not to with that collection of cars and her skills behind the wheel. But she usually had a road in some exotic locale she wanted to try out. Dubai. Italy. Japan. Back to Italy. Max would take them there and back; Chloe would sort the middle bit. Usually at high speed. There were only two incidents where the police chases involved helicopters.

Chloe pointed to the layered cliffs in the distance, "Need to stop, doll? Stretch your legs? You could wander out through the sagebrush for a few hours?"

 _Ugh. Fucking sagebrush. Nature's obstacle._ "Nope."

They passed another dead black cow on the side of the road. "Wow. What do you think, Max? Aliens? Drained their blood maybe?"

"Cars, prolly. Free range black cows at night on a dark desert road… Seems like a really bad idea. Poor things."

Max opened a water, held it up for Chloe to sip.

"Mrphm. Thanks. Maybe we should park a drone over each cow out here at night. Just sorta follow them around, lighting them up from above so people can see?"

"Faithful co-pilot duties. And I'm pretty sure that would scream 'alien abduction' to any drivers out here… Or was that the look you were going for?"

Chloe laughed as water dribbled down her shirt. "Hey! You missed my face hole." She leaned, gave Max's hand a kiss, swerved a little. "So, hey, uh, after lunch, how do you want to do this? I have faith in us and all, but I kinda doubt we'll make it through on the first try."

Max dabbed at her with a napkin. "I thought you did some advanced research or recon or something? Maybe marked the armypants dudes or mapped out a secret way through?"

"That's pretty much just cheating. I mean, we could have popped directly to the mountain entrance or whatever if we wanted easy. Besides, it's one thing to look at maps. It's another to talk to the locals. Human intelligence. They'll have the real dirt. That's the other part of our lunch mission."

"If there are any locals. But whatever. It's cool. If we run into trouble, I'll just jump back. Avoid all the things! I don't want to hurt anyone. I'm sure we'll get through. Eventually?"

"But if you jump, I won't remember any of it. I want the full Area 51 infiltration experience, Max."

"Making it difficult. You have another idea then?"

Chloe smiled. "I do..."

"...gonna tell me?"

"Oh. I thought I'd make it all pausey and dramatic and shit.'

"..."

Chloe flipped her hair. "Whatever. Fine. So if you use your rewind instead of a jump, you can bring me back a memory cube each time, right? Won't be perfect, but it'll be something. String the rewinds together, by the end, I should still have most of it? You'll be like…my DVR and Time-Sherpa!"

Max considered. "K. But if I do that, remember that I'll stay put and you'll be rewound however far back. I mean, I'll come find you, obvs."

"Like always then. If you vanish, I'll hang til you find me. Cool? Unless we're in the car, and then I'll keep driving." Chloe looked to Max, nodding.

"Cool. Just so we have a plan. Hey - any bets on how many tries?" Max leaned her head against the headrest, still facing Chloe. Bright sun caressing Chloe's skin… _ahem._

"Trying to get out of paying what you owe me, Caulfield?" Chloe laughed. "Double or nothing on the seven bucks? I think I'll go with…three tries."

Max rolled her yes. "Yeah, right. It's Area 51, Chlo... I'm thinking twenty at least. To get all the way inside?"

"Oh - well if we're talking _inside_ , and we're gonna be all super lame and shit, yeah. Sure. But are we counting each little hallway guard jump as a try, or is there a time limit? Like say, back five minutes or something to qualify?"

"Up to you. I was thinking twenty minute rewinds would count as a try, yeah?"

"Wow. Okay - and you're still saying twenty tries or more? Jesus dude. That's like an extra six hours of hardcore 'we suck' time. We're better than _that_ …"

Max knew she had her. "That's not that much loop-time, Chloe. There's a reason I heart naps."

"Alright. You're on. I'll bump mine up to 4. Whoever's closest. But no intentionally getting caught to inflate your count for the win!"

Max said, "I'd never. I am an honorable wager participant. Besides, you'll have the cube to confirm after."

"Shake on it?"

Max took Chloe's hand in hers. Held it up to her face. Gave her fingertips soft kisses.

"Okay then… That…counts. Hey - quick semi-random question - how many naps do you rewind away every day, do you think?"

"Depends on the day. I almost always take at least one."

"Hmmm." After a moment, Chloe started laughing.

"What?"

"Sorry - fuckin' Hector, man. Just texted."

"What'd he say?"

" _Clench._ "

"Insert probe joke here? Tell him I said hey." Max looked out over the highway, a straight grey-black line disappearing into low mountains in the distance. "This is a pretty cool road. It's like it could go on forever."

"I know. I'm almost tempted to keep driving. But I think our lunch is calling, and those little white buildings up there are where it's at."

"Already? Yay! Foods."

"Yep. There's the sign, dude. And a flying saucer on the back of a tow truck… Heaven. I'm so down for an Alien Burger and like a whole bucket of fries right now… Hungry?"

"Starving."

"Maybe a game of pool after?"

"Chloe, you can calculate perfect bank angles, and I have infinite retries and can manipulate reality. Pretty sure whoever breaks, wins."

"Good point. Maybe we run the locals instead, while we're pumping them for intel and stuff I mean…" Chloe slowed. "Huh. Check that, Max."

"What?"

Chloe pointed out to a road sign. "Proving _my_ universe has a twisted sense of humor too…"

Max caught the large white town marker as they passed.

"…because… _of course?_ " Max nodded.

In large black and red letters:

 _Welcome to Rachel._


	8. Rachel

**Max** put her eye to the viewfinder to frame the shot. Chloe had her shoulder under the left edge of the saucer as though carrying it. The UFO was a little over six feet across, metal, suspended by a chain hanging from the back of the dusty old tow-truck. It was parked in the dirt lot of the Little A'le'inn, the only tourist attraction in the small highway town of Rachel, Nevada. _Population: Yes._

Chloe repositioned herself slightly, gesturing. "Come on Max! You need to be in this too!"

"I will, I will. Just need to get the composition right." Max moved a little to one side, bending her knees slightly. "Tilt your head up just a little?"

Chloe moved her head. "Dude. Get in here and take the picture already. Burgers. Fries."

"Hang on… jeez. Okay, on the count of three, say 'alien cheese'"

"Alien Cheeseburgers!" Chloe smiled.

"Not til the count of three, dummy. Ready? One…two…three!" Max hit the shutter button right as she let go of the camera. Froze the universe. She walked around to the right side of the flying saucer, put her shoulder under it, mirroring Chloe - like they were carrying it between them. She rewound to a few microseconds after she'd triggered the camera. Kept herself perfectly still as she ran the universe forward at quarter speed. The camera made a slow click as it began to fall. She froze, grabbed it while it was a foot off the ground, then returned to normal time.

"Get it?" Chloe asked, still huddled under the edge.

Max flipped the screen to 'play', walked back to Chloe so they could both see it. "I must not have let it go evenly. Looks like the upper left corner pitched forward a little, and there's a slight motion blur from the fall…" _I could redo it with a faster shutter, but the aperture change would blur the mountains and sign a little…._

Chloe rested her chin on Max's shoulder, peeking over at the screen. "It's a cute shot. Off balance, a little blurry, it's like…an artsy found photo. I like it. Now come on - let's get our food on!" Chloe put her arm around Max's shoulder, half pushing, half steering her toward the front door.

Max let out a small laughing "hey!" as she nearly tripped. She clicked the lens cap on and slipped the camera into her bag as they crossed the threshold.

It was smaller than she expected. Inside. Smell of plastic, grilled meat and electric heaters. A bar ran along the right kitchen wall, worn laminate tables and plastic chairs lurked in the center of the room, while narrow shelves with alien related paraphernalia ringed the edges. Stickers, T-shirts, masks, snow globes, cases with all manner of tchotchke. Three alien dolls in shirts...

A pool table filled the space near the back left wall, and in the far corner, a real live coin-operated Pac-Man arcade game beckoned. The ceiling above the bar was completely hidden by a solid field of hanging cash. On closer examination, Max realized they were taped-up dollar bills guests had left messages on. Thousands of them at least. _More questions than answers there…_

Chloe seemed to ignore it all, beelined for the bar.

"You don't even have to look around, do you?" Max asked, knowing the answer.

"I will. I mean, I took a frame-grab as soon as we walked in. Cataloged everything. I already know what toys I'm buying before we leave, if that's what you mean. Don't worry… It'll still be fun to look around with you. I just wanna order first." Chloe sidled up to the bar, picked up a menu. Max unconsciously rewound, watched her do it again. Spun her forward and back one last time. She decided that Chloe was a good sidler. A lot better than she was. Max was more of a 'walk up and sit down' kind of person. But Chloe always had a legit sidle. It was impressive.

The menu Chloe held was another thing she didn't _really_ have to look at. She'd get the Alien Burger and fries - made that much clear on the drive up. _I, on the other hand, need to see the menu._ Max walked up to the bar and took the open stool next to Chloe. Wasn't sure what she was having yet. She might end up with the burger too, but she wanted to see options.

 _I wonder if the cows out there end up as alien burgers in here?_

She put the question out of her mind just as quickly. She liked cows. They were always friendly. In her experience, they seemed to have…preferences about things. Which was a sign of something. And it was like…they just didn't ever mean anybody any harm.

 _It always makes me a little sad how delicious they are…_

 _But if they weren't, they'd prolly be endangered by now too…_

 _Maybe an alien burger with bacon?_

 _Nom._

* * *

 **Hank** Larsen dragged a few files over to cheap plastic thumb drive. He was on the third floor, working out of a private meeting room. His morning orientation session wrapped an hour ago. The employees in today's group were all transfers in from other MCCP facilities, so it was a shorter schedule block. No need to go over the foundation stuff, just right to the facilities, the area, the peculiarities of HQ. Easy.

"That's a good one." Sarah pointed at another folder further down the display.

He copied it over to join the others.

In addition to his morning job leading some of the orientation classes, Hank was a minor precog. Short range. Outer limit of a few weeks. His predictive sweet spots were at about ten minutes, and again at just over seven days. Stone skips. Glimpses, mostly. There were others who could project further or with greater accuracy. But where they might pick up on events, he was better at people. The combo made him a good fit.

Sarah was blind that close in, starting up about where he left off. It's why they paired up on assignments. She projected out with decreasing resolution to about a year. The uncertainty with distance was a normal limiting factor, made worse by proximity to so many other talents.

It was something they'd all suffered from here at HQ. Foreknowledge altered the future. A prediction by one would shape ops briefings, change plans, or change how people thought about a problem to begin with. Or when they began thinking about a problem.

Any alteration to the future could ripple back to change what they'd see. That kind of feedback was normal with only one precog. Manageable. It got complicated with more than one, often changing what other precogs would see pitched forward. In turn, shifting their predictions, which would further alter activities or intentions, reflecting back as changes to the others…

Like loops inside of mirrors. It was a complete mess at first. 'Predictive interference patterns', they'd called it.

Another proof that nothing existed in isolation.

But they'd adapted, splitting themselves up to work in small teams with mostly non-overlapping timeframes. There weren't that many of them. Only a few teams at HQ. But enough that each could work with different ops in non-interfering ways. Like ripples in different ponds, now separated by land, they mostly stayed clear of each other's futures that way. At the level of individual ops, anyhow.

Hank paused, said, "Guys, I think we're pushing detection thresholds for today. Folder access is logged, so…this is good enough for now. Still have a week or two. Grant, if you wouldn't mind, soft reset? Reboot us again tomorrow, same time?"

"Yeah. I'm on half shift tomorrow, but it's okay. I'll stay a bit."

"Thanks. It'll be worth your while. Better do this quick, before we're missed."

Grant used to be rogue talent. Whisperer. He was one of the first to try to harden Max…Mrs. Caulfield…against manipulation, back when he was first brought on board. Sparring sessions. Practice. Resistance training.

His suggestive skills were more effective on willing subjects. In a way, it was like he was giving them permission to do the thing they wanted anyway…

He touched Sarah's head first. Her eyes closed. "Your connection to the memories of this room and related events, and all prior memories of your current assignment will be temporarily isolated from the whole. Tomorrow at twelve, you'll feel compelled to return here to this room, where they will return. Tell no one where you're going. Hold now until I've finished with Hank. After waking, you'll continue separately to the cafeteria for lunch, before continuing with your day."

Hank knew Grant's work was done entirely mind to mind, but he liked to read aloud sometimes. Everybody had their quirks.

Grant touched his head…

Hank couldn't decide between the cranberry apple cobbler or the flourless chocolate cake with meringue. They both looked good, but he sensed that the chocolate would be too heavy later on. He put the dish on his tray, admiring the flakey golden crisp. _Cobbler it is…_

* * *

 **Chloe** was impressed. Max ran the table like a pro. Which meant she was very slowly and methodically losing the game. Her opponent was a large, dusty man with a blue jumpsuit and grey beard. Her efforts gave Chloe space to chat up the others while they watched.

 _Probing, if you will. Heh. …yeah…_

Chloe sipped, continued. "Yeah, so we got this YouTube friend who's all like daring us, just calling us out online. But in his own challenge video he only hopped over the line and back like a chickenshit. What's the best spot to go way past a line on video so we can kinda shut him up for good about this?"

The bearded pool player stopped mid shot, said, "No. You girls really don't want to mess with any of that. Those dudes are deadly serious up there. And not one of 'em got a sense of humor."

The guy behind the bar pulled out a menu, came over, showed Chloe the map on the back. "There's two ways most of the tours go. The first is to take a left at the dirt road a mile or so up. Just stay on it for ten miles, and that'll put you at the back gate. There's a fence line and a good sized guard post. People normally take pictures at the sign and go on their way. The second way, here, you go back about twenty-five miles the other direction, toward Vegas, and take a right on the dirt track. That's Groom Road. A ways down, it'll turn between a couple of hills. A little more and that's what's called 'the front gate'. Guard shack is another eight miles down the road, through the hills, but you won't see it. But here, there's a couple of signs you can take a picture by. You can do either one. There's more structure to see by the back gate, but either's the same really. Just whatever you do, don't go past the signs. Even messing around. Your friend was lucky if he got away with it."

One of the bearded guy's friends added, "Those cammo dudes are no fuckin' joke."

"Cammo dudes?" asked Max, with an artfully puzzled smile.

"Private defense contractors - perimeter security for the base. They patrol the back country in them white pickups. They'll have eyes on you the whole time. Near the gates, they have regular spots they sit and drink their coffee and watch the tourists. They got cameras too. You look; you'll see 'em. Make sure you're on the right side of the lines and all. You cross over, or if they think you crossed over, they come down, sometimes guns drawn, yellin'… Mostly intimidating, but they'll call Lincoln County Sheriffs out to get you. Honest mistake, Sheriff might let you off with a stern warning or a seven-hundred-fifty dollar fine. Mouth off, and they can do you up to six months in jail."

"They ever shoot people?" Chloe asked.

"Sheriff? No. They're just the regular Sheriff for the county. Cammo dudes, I've never heard of nothin' escalating that far, but I guess we wouldn't. Use of deadly force is authorized past the boundary. But…I don't know."

"So how would they know we were there?" asked Max innocently. She took a shot at stripe, whiffed. "Darn it!"

Bartender said, "They got sensors all over the place. Some pressure pads in the dirt roads as far away as twenty miles out. There's motion sensors, sound detectors, heat sensors, cameras everywhere, and some even say they can detect scent so they can tell if you're a deer or cow or not. Some they let you see, others are hidden on Joshua trees or in rocks or shrubs. They got hidden snipers on some ridges, a few helicopters. But it's okay to go up to the gates if you do it right. They know tourists are curious, and I expect they understand that it's a little rite of passage for some to stand by the signs for pictures. They won't mess with you much if you're obvious about it and that's all you do. But don't linger, and don't go wandering. And do _not_ cross that line. They'll be on you before you know it."

Another added, "If you girls go up today, mind the weather front comin' in. We're supposed to get some rain in the flats, and snows in the hills. Chances of a ticket go up if you make 'em get out of their warm trucks to come talk to you."

Chloe tossed back a swig. "Noted. And uh…sounds like most tourists funnel in along those two main roads. They're smart to control it. Ever hear of anyone going in over land? That's a lot of rough back-country border for them to cover…"

"Old days, used to be more. Motorbikes, four-wheelers, that sorta thing. When they still had a ridge-line that was public land. But the feds seized the last of that a few years back. It's a big desert, but there's nowhere to hide. Nearest public line of sight is nearly twenty-five miles away. Every valley and crevice is monitored and locked tight. You'd honestly have an easier time getting into Fort Knox undetected."

Beardyman added, "Nothing new under the sun. And ain't nothin' you two are gonna try they ain't seen before…"

Chloe caught a glance from Max. The beginnings of a smile on her lips. If it was just Max, she'd have been in already. The challenge was dragging Chloe along with her.

Chloe's mind worked casually while Max carefully lined up her next missed shot. She wanted to give this a go with her regular plain old self if she could. First time at least. Just to see how far they could get. For fun.

But she was thinking past that.

 _Dense multi-sensory net._

 _Fast reaction trucks on the roads. Helicopters on patrol or standby._

 _Men with guns. M4s wouldn't be a problem at 5.56, but they'd have to have snipers running .308, .338 or .50. Plus radio, so any one witness quickly becomes an army…_

 _Miles and miles of hard terrain as a buffer zone. Jets or drones as a last ditch maybe. Don't know about tanks, energy weapons. Have to watch. Wildlife would have blown any mines by now… Doubtful._

 _Teleporting gets us past the terrain. But we could have started there. At least outside. Try not to cheat too much._

 _But how to stay hidden… Every net has holes. Otherwise it's a…sheet. And…you can't…fish with a sheet. Wait - is that actually true? Shit. Have to look that up. Oh. Guess those dudes can totally fish with a goddamn sheet. Okay then. Huh. I don't know if I know what that means then…_

 _Whatevs. Focus._

 _Active electronics will be detectable. Can't shield everything. Device energies have to be visible to themselves to be useful as sensors. So the ones projecting - radar, IR, LIDAR, motion, whatever - they should show up in their own frequency ranges. Need a drone sweep. And somebody made the sensors, so specs should be discoverable once we know what they are…_

 _Passive sensors pose more of a challenge. Lurking quietly._

 _But everything needs power. Solar, batteries, or hardwired AC. No poles out here, and scavengers would munch anything sitting on the ground, so, buried? Tons of EM fields either way. Limited detection range on that. Low level flyby. Too much surface to cover. Fine tuning runs to narrow a path later, maybe. But all of the devices should be warmer than the surrounding air. Show up in passive IR. Metals, plastics. Chemical markers._

Max pulled back to strike the cue.

 _Data is another giveaway. A sensor is no good if it can't communicate what it senses. Guessing wifi is out. Too easy to hack or jam. Tight point-to-point transmissions would be better, but they'd need focusing antennas on everything, with line of sight. Which means one-to-one receivers. Too limiting for them, even with larger collectors on hilltops. Single points of failure too… Hmmm. If I was designing it off the shelf, I'd run the data over fiber. Shallow trenching. Still need power. Pipe power and optical data down the same shallow trench. Out of the way, masked from view or hungry critters. Fiber means no signal bleeds over to parallel power lines through induction, so more secure too._

 _Those are the main keys, aren't they? Energy. Power sources. Plus data transmissions. And heat. Follow the power, map the grid. Power distribution defines the sensors. Manufacturer's specs define the limits of sensing. Placement densities required. Terrain. Orientation. Cones. Distance. Frequencies. Thresholds. Assuming some redundancy, some unwired, solar, batteries, redundant signal, maybe some wireless after all. Hard to reach places. Throwaway devices with low bandwidth needs, mesh networks, Joshua tree to the next tree… Interesting. Combo. Still generates heat above desert ambient. Map the thermal. That still gets us most devices…_

 _My toys have better sensitivity…_

 _Dudes with binoculars might be a different problem. Or even basic FLIR. Lenses reflect. They'll have diffusion covers. Might detect them anyway. Then there's non-EM passive. Acoustics. Pressure. Stuff you can't see. Could use adaptive camo ourselves, but there's still some heat, sound, plus there's tradeoffs vs. protection._

 _I need to take the Yeti for a spin… Only one though. Maybe._

The cue ball smacked into a different stripe, knocking in her opponent's solid.

 _With Max, we don't need a continuous run. Just short hops. Better if she doesn't win the bet. But we'll still probably need a round two or three. Things we can't predict. Unknown unknowns._

 _Max could mask our temps with a slower layer of time, but that would show as a hole, or distort the background, ambient variations showing up. Shit. Still better than a bloom to a human eye, but no idea what kind of automated alarming is set up yet. Research would help. Might aim a few IAs down the research rabbit holes now, just in case… Boom!_

 _You're handicapping both of you though, relying on Max._

 _But…it's a fun day out, and she's game._

 _First run at least. Just to see how far you can get._

Chloe laughed a little to herself.

 _Yeah, with an OP as fuck escort… not a remotely fair test._

 _But if we don't make it cold…if it gets to be too much trouble, or gets boring for her, I'll go active. Map it all, map the infrastructure, all the sensor nets. My little eyes in the sky. See the holes that way. There might even be a path we could walk through without being detected, if we can find the gaps. They don't have our sensors. They can't see their own holes. Not like we can. Always have the core…_

 _Could activate a dust mesh. Might be able to jack in, subvert the sensors or the data directly. So then we'd be down to what dudes could see with their eyes. Maybe… Assuming coverage. Alt, Max gets me somewhere central, if there is such a thing. Take over the whole grid. Have to find it first. And if we can get there, we shouldn't have any trouble getting to the facility just as easy - since we know where that is. That's still cheating for the first Let'sPlay, though… See how it goes…_

 _Maybe helpers, though. Scouts. Builders…_

Chloe was aware they were still carrying on without her at normal speed. She heard Max say something about a cow suit? That got her attention.

"Wait… sorry, I spaced for a sec. Did you just say 'cow suit'?"

Max laughed. "Yeah. We were talking about ways someone might get in. So maybe, if we dressed up as a cow, they wouldn't pay any attention to us at all."

"No, that's brilliant. Hiking twenty miles over rough terrain, bent over in total darkness. I like it."

"We could trade being the front, but whatever. Or we could totally disguise ourselves as a UFO. But I kinda wonder - would that freak them out, or would they be all like 'they're late'?"

"Twisted, but genius…"

* * *

 **Max** smacked the cue ball off a stripe, which collided with the eight ball, dropping it in the corner pocket. _Game over._

"Aww man. Tough break, Max. No…pun."

"Yeah. We should prolly get going anyway." She'd fill Chloe in on the next hour once they were outside.

"Sure. Well, guys, appreciate the game and the chat. Thanks." Chloe took the hint, grabbed her stuff.

"Good luck with your friend's challenge. Careful out there." Beardy. Turns out his name was Sean, but his friends called him Derek, for reasons that made sense, probably. _Nice enough dudes though._

'Yep. Catch you guys later."

Max headed for the door, turned to wave. Glanced up. They'd signed their own dollar bill earlier, after eating. Taped it to the ceiling with the others. Chloe led her out with her bag of alien loot over her shoulder.

Once they were in the Rover, Max explained. "Sorry. Those guys were like total chatterboxes. We wouldn't have been out til almost sunset."

"How far back?"

"Over an hour. We were still inside."

"Damn. Good call. I miss anything useful?" Chloe put her seatbelt on with a click.

Max did the same. Replied, "Not really. Few minor things maybe. Turns out, their knowledge mostly runs out at the outside gates. So we might be on our own past that. The whole culture, from the I-want-to-believers to the spur-of-the-moment tourists, that's where experience and firsthand knowledge ends. Outer fence-lines. Plus whatever they could see in the skies. Lights, whatever. Some of the old timers visited a public ridge back when it was still public. Overlooked the base. But that's no go now. And honestly, we can see more ourselves on Google Earth, so there's that…"

"What else?" Chloe started the Rover, turned down the music.

"Okay. So one maybe useful bit of info is that once we're there, it's probably just like any other Air Force base. They rely on the terrain and their perimeter systems to keep people out. But people on base have jobs to do and stuff. But they also have downtime. There are cafeterias, baseball fields, temporary housing, even a clubhouse of sorts. People have to be able to walk around outside, do normal stuff. Oh, no windows on any of the buildings though… Few times a day they sound an alarm, and everyone has ten minutes to get inside of a windowless building so they can't see. That's when the secret planes take off and land.

"But most times, out walking around… Not a big deal. The servicemen and women are mostly stationed out of Nellis or Edwards on paper. Some go back and forth in shifts, while others are there full time. Blocks of six months, whatever. Anyway, there's no private vehicle traffic, but there are regular daily flights in and out of Nellis, and a private terminal with unmarked planes run out of McCarran. Plus a bus that goes in every morning."

"You're thinking of trying to sneak onto one of the official transports? Blending in?"

"You asked about that. These guys didn't have much direct knowledge, but a couple were ex-military. Nothing to do with the base or anything, just in general. They said the security checks would be insanely tight. Military IDs, crosschecked against personnel databases offsite, biometric scans for verification, so we'd have to have all of that established. Then the security clearance thing, need to know your badge numbers, there would need to be badges with numbers and our photos already at their boarding checkpoints, unless it was our first time, but they'd verify your orders to make sure you were authorized and all of that regardless… It's controlled access, so they know who should and shouldn't be there… As you'd expect."

"Okay, so we'd need to create comprehensive military back-records for each of us, and check all of those boxes off in their systems before we tried. Seems simple…" Chloe slowly creeped them forward to the highway, stopped.

"Yeah, well, we'd obviously need uniforms too if we want to fit in. Your hair is gonna be an obvious dress-code violation…"

Chloe's hair shifted from shades of blues to a light strawberry blonde. "Better?"

Max stared, uncertain. Her eyes widened after a quick rewind and replay. "Holy shit Chloe! What the hell?!"

"Wait - did I just surprise _you_ with something? Please don't rewind behind this?" Chloe smiled wide.

"Uh, yeah? How the fuck did you do that? How long have you been able to do that?!"

"Sorry. Haven't dyed my hair in about a year and a half, so then I guess? Well, I mean, it's not exactly 'hair' anymore. At least, not in the traditional sense. Plays like it. A lot stronger though. And you'd need a microscope to see the differences from the outside."

Max leaned back in her seat, looked away, then back to Chloe. "That's new." More calm now, if maybe a little hurt. "Pretty major, too. Why…why didn't you say anything?"

"Didn't occur to me? Which…sounds super fucking lame now, I know. But at the time, it was just another upgrade. Just one more body-hack among many. I mostly did it for the sensors and stuff. Internal structures. Surface control - uh, the color changes - were a bonus. Sorry, I know I should have said something. You're…you're not comfortable with this, are you?" Chloe looked momentarily worried.

Max shifted toward her in her seat, touched her wrist. "No, no, it's not like that. It's cool. Dude, whatevs. It's all you. Just a surprise is all. And the color change was so fast - that's so fucking cool. Wait… Do it again? Can you make it any color you want?"

Chloe smiled, appeared relieved. "Pretty much, yeah. It's more surface texture refraction than internal pigment, but there's some of that too, for slower changes, long-term blends." She switched from light brown to black to red and back to blues, then rippled them all in waves, like a cuttlefish…

"Shit. That's…really neat! Play later? For now, guess it's enough to know your hair won't bust us once we're in…"

"Okay, good. I'm glad you don't hate. Uh…what else did I miss in the rewind? Oh - wait - are we going right or left?" She pulsed back to blues.

 _Fucking amazing…_

"Sorry - go right. And not to disappoint you, but none of those guys inside really believe it's anything but military planes out there. So we might be hitting an empty hangar. Metaphorically. Even in the 'ufo community', there's a faction that says Area 51 is nothing but a smoke-screen. Like, no UFOs at all, ever. Other than the real definition of 'flying objects that are also unidentified', cause, I guess amateurs are pretty bad at identifying faraway shit in the sky that they don't recognize or know anything about? Big surprise. Anyway…story is that the government, contractors and the CIA have created or perpetuated the myths to keep eyes focused here instead of where the real secret stuff is, alien or otherwise, depending on who you believe."

Chloe accelerated them up to highway speed, heading south. "Where's that?"

Looking out, Max could see the first hints of storm clouds to the west. "There are a few camps, and no one has any direct knowledge, so, giant grain of salt. But some say the real alien stuff was all relocated to Wright Patterson Air Force Base in Ohio sometime in the late 1950's. Hidden in plain sight. Or went there directly from Roswell, and Area 51 was never in the mix. Or from Germany in 1945, according to some stories. Whatever. Oh, and some also think that the real hybrid UFO testing happens mostly from a secret underwater base in some caves under Guantanamo Bay in Cuba. Like the entrance is actually underwater…"

Chloe laughed. "The fuck? Gitmo? Seriously?"

"Yep. Those stories go back to before we were born… So before Gitmo was Gitmo I guess."

"Huh. That definitely sounds like bullshit. What do they say goes on at Area 51 then?"

"Boring old test flights of conventional experimental planes like the U-2, SR-71 and Aurora… Stealth fighters and bombers back in the day. Other stuff now. Blackstar, unconventional stealth drones, whatever. That's all for sure. For the rest… it's either a giant distraction, or the real deal, and if it's the real deal it may still have UFO stuff, or it might have been moved."

"Covering off on all possible choices. So…basically no one knows anything, and everyone is completely full of shit?"

"Pretty much that, yep. They also said that there are two main private defense contractors that run everything, along with the CIA and military. With other defense companies leasing space to test secret experimental designs."

"Any chance we could just, I don't know, buy one?"

"You're so funny… I asked you that last round. You did some quick research before raising the unsettling point that if we did, we'd essentially be classified as arms dealers. Or, alt, if the companies are controlled by any local flavors of 'them', they'd be unlikely to sell anyway, which seems at least possible…"

"Makes sense. Hmmm. Okay - could we go in as non-military employees? Fake contractors?"

"That all starts to sound really complicated, and a job for normal spies. Whole point is that we're us, Chlo. We can just go in as us, right? The way we do it, we don't need any of that. Unless you really want to, I mean."

"Yeah, shit. Obviously. You're right. So…what? We storm the front gate?"

"That's where we're headed. I was thinking something like that. It's totally up to you though. I mean, this trip is mostly for hanging out and for fun. Grabbing any clues at the end for the virtual 'them' mystery cork-board is the easy part. So maybe we take it as far as we can, do the rewind cube thing as needed, and at the end of the run, we back all the way up, dress like the natives and teleport where we need to be with zero alarms?"

"Might be a plan. Let's see once we get a better idea of what's what…"

* * *

 **Chloe** held the camera to her face, snapped a few quick shots of Max under the sign. In bold red letters it warned against flying drones, taking photos or crossing the line.

 _Only breaking one out of three… So far._

Front Gate, Area 51. Dirt road. Two signposts, but…no actual gate. Concertina wire extended off in each direction. Monitoring equipment sat on the hilltop to the left. A desert-tan trailer with optics and sensors squatted to one side of the road, fifty yards ahead. Sun was streaming in under the leading edge of the storm front.

She zoomed the camera past Max to get a better look at the white truck parked at the top of the hill ahead. She couldn't make out the occupants with the glare on the windshield. Polarizer didn't clear it up much either.

She pulled back, lined up for one more shot of Max. A close up of her face this time. Full frame. Off center. Max swayed a little, self-conscious, even after all this time. Still preferred to be behind the camera, rather than up front. _Ridiculously adorable_ … Chloe increased her own internal clock-speed, speeding up perception, slowing the world just a touch. She wanted every detail. Out here, with Max. A selfish little moment to admire her. Time. To notice the warm inner glow of late afternoon sunshine soaking into her face. Her eyes shining, each iris lit, showing off impossible details. Chloe imagined trillions of tiny galaxies floating behind those pupils… Her freckles…contrasting, curving over kissable skin. A few strands of hair caught in the breeze, blew across her face in slow-motion. Max smiled, lips soft, blinked as she looked away for a moment. Eyes down. The next blink her gaze returned, locked onto Chloe. Like there was no camera at all. No universe. Just the two of them. And all the time that was left…

She wondered if Max had slowed things for herself too. It was that kind of look. Chloe captured the moment forever, tripped the shutter. Lowered the camera halfway, smiling, asked, "Distract much?"

Max did that thing where she bit her lower lip on one side a little… "Yeah… you too."

She had to remind herself that she wasn't the only one capturing this moment. They were under multispectral audio-visual surveillance from all sides. And unlike home, Chloe didn't control any of it out here. _Yet._ Anything they said to each other now would have an audience. They were probably the most interesting disturbance along the entire perimeter this afternoon, so all eyes would be on them.

* * *

 **Max** took the camera back, put it in her bag. Leaned into Chloe. "What now, love? Could take you back for toys and we could race. Or we could go on a leisurely hike along the road. We could spin back and go stealth. Could fly in like a UFO? Or dress like a cow. We could go away and try to do the full impersonation style infiltration. It's your day. Anything you want."

Chloe considered. "We're already here. Let's give it at least one go without all of that? Sometimes it's the simple things, right?"

"Sometimes. Stroll then?"

"I didn't bring an umbrella, but sure. Let's see what happens if we go in all casual like? But maybe we should ditch the Rover somewhere first?"

"Good point. Gimmie a sec." Max folded back to their garage, reappearing in fractions of a second. To any cameras, it would look like the Range Rover simply vanished. Which would set off more than a few alarms…

* * *

 **Ariel** kept one eye on the holo of the ship, another on the screen to the side. Paperwork. Registries. Bank accounts. Trying to untangle the behind-the-scenes, and any links to the bigger picture that the rest of the floor was working on. Nothing useful yet.

Her eyes were going funny. She'd caught a few hours of sleep this morning on a couch in temporary quarters. The rest was coffee. Too much. She was making some headway; transactions weren't regulated or monitored in quite the same way they were here in the US. What she'd picked up was it was mostly a cash, drugs or barter kind of enterprise. Favors and markers traded around.

Different kinds of currency. Not so much a paper trail. No obvious way to account for it from outside, really.

Which made it far more difficult to prove anything.

Someone would have to meet it on the far end. Wherever that was. Only way, stick with it. Maybe she could get face rec on some of the dudes at some point. Carefully.

"Dave, can you keep an eye for a bit. Need to take a break. I can bring you something from upstairs if you want?"

"No, I'm good Ari. I got it. Take your time. I'll call if anything happens."

"Cool. Thanks. BRB…"

* * *

 **Chloe** felt the change the moment Max whisked the SUV away. The truck on the hill launched toward them, spewing twin rooster tails of dust and gravel. They'd stay on this side of the border for the first interaction. Still on the right side of the law. See how aggro they were by default. Unprovoked. …ish. Public land. Two defenseless girls who maybe just did a magic trick in open air…

The white pickup slid to a halt just the other side of the line, rocks dragging, crunching under the tires.

Both doors flew open. Two cammo dudes. Desert camouflage pants, leg rigs, boots, but with non-military t-shirts. A little overweight. Oakleys. Short hair. Cop mustaches. _No body armor. Interesting. Comfort over safety._ Meant they were here for tourists, not the front line against a real threat. That line was probably back a ways. The driver got out with a short AR-15. The passenger had a video camera pointed at them, sidearm drawn. Neither pointed weapons at them directly, however.

"Hey there." said Max cheerfully, adding a small wave.

Chloe waved, head-nod. "'Sup?"

Camera cammo dude drew closest, yelled in his best fast-angry dudebro respect-mah-authoritai voice, "Turn around! Get your hands in the air! I said turn the fuck around! Don't look at me - look away!"

Max looked at Chloe, shrugged.

Chloe had a good close-up look at them now. Facial geometries…

Neither had more than a cursory social media presence. LinkedIn, Facebook profiles with no pictures and limited connections… She backed into those through their wives' profiles. Names, relatives… There were plenty of pics there. Some tagged. Pictures of them, family, kids, barbecues. Friends. Going back years. Shift to iCloud for the driver. More. Contact lists, call histories… Chloe poured over military records, high school transcripts, emails, text, phone metadata. One had been discharged under 'other than honorable circumstances' while an MP at an overseas base, but no other marks. Neither mapped to anyone interesting. Just a couple of ex-military dudebros doing their jobs as private security under the flag of a low-profile defense contractor. She knew she was cheating a little. But this shouldn't affect the retry count… Chloe noticed crumbs on a pant-leg. _Eating…_

"Turn around!" shouted the first again.

They continued their approach. "I said get your fucking hands in the air and turn the fuck around! I can legally fucking shoot you right now!"

Intimidation tactics were over the top. _So lame…_

Chloe said, "Dude, chill the fuck out. We didn't do anything wrong. And I'm pretty sure you can't."

Camera cammo dudebro raised his sidearm to a low ready, still not pointing directly at her. "I will not tell you again. Turn the _fuck_ around, and put your goddamn hands in the air."

The driver hung back just a little. Rifle ready, but down.

Chloe rolled her eyes, turned, hands up a little, impatient. "Fine."

Max cheerfully followed her lead.

Camera dude holstered his sidearm while the other covered. He frisked them both roughly. "Are you carrying?"

"What?" asked Max.

"I said are you fucking carrying. Any weapons on you?"

"No. Gosh. Why are you so mad? What did we do?" Max asked.

Max was playing up 'sweet'… Chloe held back a laugh.

As camera dude backed off, continued recording them, the driver asked in a gruff voice "What are you doing here? Who else is with you?"

Chloe responded, "No one dude. It's just us. Jesus. What's wrong with you guys?"

"You're lying to my fucking face. Where's your fucking car? It was just here. Who took it? Where did they go? Why did they leave you behind?"

Max put her arms down, slowly turned. Chloe went to do the same.

He practically shouted. "I didn't say you could turn around! Fucking face the other way!"

Max failed to comply. Met his eyes and said softly, "We're obviously not a threat to you. Please, tone it down. I know you're doing a job, but you've done it. You can stop being so rude."

Chloe stifled a laugh, but it came out as a little snort. That…didn't go over well.

He said coldly, "You know right where you are right now. If you're gonna be smartasses, we'll get the Lincoln Sheriff down here and you can deal with him. Trespassing alone is good for six months in jail. Now I asked you a question. Where the _fuck_ is your car?"

Max stared down the barrel of his sidearm. Into his camera. "And you know where you are. Public land. Outside your perimeter. You've been watching us this whole time. Your other cameras have been watching us this whole time. At no point did we cross your little line. Your own video is the evidence of that. We haven't threatened, we haven't resisted. So please. Be civil."

His voice raised in pitch. "I'm not fucking around. Last chance. _Where's your fucking car?!_ "

Max looked at Chloe. "Your call, babe."

Resigned, Chloe shrugged, said, "No, go ahead."

Max said simply, "I teleported it to Las Vegas. Now please, point your weapons somewhere else, before you get hurt."

Chloe laughed, hand reached out, touched Max's shoulder. "I love you Max."

She shrugged, smiled. "I know…"

Camera guy grabbed at Max.

She vanished.

Chloe dropped her arm, shrugged at them as they looked around.

"What the fuck?" Camera dudebro focused on Chloe as the other drew up, scanned around them. He hesitated, uncertain, finally rushed Chloe as if to physically subdue her. Maybe it was a fallback to training, maybe it the challenge to authority, maybe it was instinct to secure her before she could vanish too. Neither made it more than a step before tripping over their own feet. Max had tied their boot laces together. Chloe couldn't help but laugh. As they went down, their weapons briefly flashed, flew apart into a coarse reddish dust.

Max reappeared.

"Classic approach." said Chloe.

Max leaned into her as the men struggled to get up. "Classic for a reason. Had to improvise a little. Didn't bring tie wraps. I…I should get some tie wraps… Might be a long day…"

The men had managed to roll, push themselves back, still on the ground, one cut at his laces with an angry knife. The other went to do the same. Max vanished, appeared behind them, leaned back against the sign. To their credit, they sheathed their knives before moving toward Chloe again.

Two dudes. Strong builds. Active soldier bodies had faded. They had truck-sitting-beer-and-lifting bodies now. That was good. Chloe upped her clock speed, throwing them into relative slow motion. With nerve and muscle upgrades, she was stronger, could respond more quickly, move her augmented body faster, but she was still ultimately bound by time, physics.

The smaller one reached her first, went to tackle her by the waist, football style. Reflex. He played from junior high through his senior year, where he broke his collarbone. It healed, but ended his parent's dreams of a scholarship. He went military instead.

Chloe, watching him fall into her, waited until he was almost touching. Vaulted up, fluid, over one shoulder like a dolphin, catching his collarbone with her knee on the way. _Snap._ It was a clean break. She rolled to her feet as he lost balance and face-planted into the dirt road behind her.

The second guard saw the first go down, but it happened fast. He didn't have time to alter his direction or momentum. He committed, arms out. Chloe dropped, spinning, went under an arm, gave him a little telekinetic push from behind, adding to his momentum, throwing him off balance. He lost footing, tripped over the first guy, went down.

Max cleared her throat. Chloe looked back at her. Max rolled her eyes.

"What?" asked Chloe.

Max gestured toward the hill. A foot-wide orb appeared ten feet from Chloe's head, followed by the crack of a rifle.

"Oh. Nice catch… Thanks?"

Max shrugged, pointed awkwardly, vaguely toward the hilltops. "So…snipers."

"Right." Chloe walked over to Max, took her by the hand. "Feel like walking?"

"Sure." Another bubble appeared, bullet locked inside. Then another.

"Persistent."

"He'll run out of bullets."

"True enough."

They set off at a leisurely pace. The crack of gunfire behind them. Max left the growing collection of orbs hanging in the air like a festive sort of desert art installation, showing where they'd been. The first raindrops fell into the dirt, dotting the landscape with small, dark cup shapes…

* * *

 **Chloe** picked up a flat rock, skipped it along the dirt road in front of them. She was thankful for Max's makeshift umbrella. A thin, hemispherical sheet of frozen time keeping pace overhead as they walked.

Max handed her a wrapped lemon candy she'd liberated from a bowl near the register on their way out of the diner. "Whatcha thinking about?"

"Ooh. Pocket-candy. Thanks! Um. So, okay - you know how we were talking earlier, about parking drones over cows or whatever to maybe highlight them for drivers?"

"Uh huh." Max said, popping a candy in her mouth.

"Well, it gave me an idea. I mean, we really could do it in a way that didn't freak people out…"

"For reals?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, it's not cool for the people driving, and it sucks ass for the cows, right? Not their fault. But…that's not the thing I was thinking of exactly. I wanna do that too, but it triggered another idea."

"Sorry. I interrupted."

Chloe picked up another stone. "It's okay. Just, there's no reason we can't do the same thing for other animals… ones endangered by poaching around the world, you know? Least til we build their numbers back up. Reduce the demand side, help find alternative sources of income for poachers until the post-scarcity lift kicks in for everyone, usual story, right? That's the long term play, but til then, there are still these animal dudes out there being killed for completely dumb-shit reasons…"

"No, you're absolutely right, Chloe. Lighting them all up at night will _totally_ help."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "You're such an ass. Not light _them_ up. Light the _poachers_ up."

"They do have guns and stuff… Easy enough to target a drone with a flashlight."

"Not if the drone is armed too…"

Max stopped. "No, Chloe. We're not building a semi-autonomous flying army of murderbots. Didn't you take away any meaningful life lessons from the Terminator films? Or like, any of 21st century history?"

"TV show was so much better. Summer? Are you kidding? And besides, that's not the same. They were never sentient, just… yeah. Anyway…"

"Drifting, darling." They set off again.

"Sorry. Tranq guns then. Whatthefuckever. Just… some way to tag the assholes and protect the wildlife. It's only automating and scaling up what rangers and conservationists are trying to do by themselves right now. We'll need to do something to protect the ones we release anyway. Why not help the rest of the population til then?"

"I'm totally on board with this idea, Chloe. I just think we have to be careful not to give people reasons to be afraid of us. Armed murderbots, regardless of purpose…"

"No, I get that. But fuck, Max. Maybe…maybe some people _should_ be afraid. Maybe… _just maybe,_ if you're out there in the world doing really cruel evil shit, catching a tranq in the ass is the _least_ you deserve…"

"And the poachers fall, get eaten by predators while they're asleep… That's on us. Some of them do have families. It's shit what they're doing, but… It's kinda like the pirates off the coast of Somalia - something is making all of that crazy risk seem like a good idea to otherwise normal people. Giant payoff, desperation in a vacuum…"

"So maybe they tranq 'em and then call in the rangers? Hover and keep predators away until they can be arrested? I mean, we can figure out the details. That's just protocol. I was just thinking it's another something we can do; you know?"

"Yeah - that works. I mean, some people might have allergic reactions, dosage matters… just have to be careful is all."

"Cool. I'll put a team on it. Make sure we think through the safety part too. Work with the rangers, whatever…"

"It's a good idea, Chloe. You know how I feel about our critters. Even if I _am_ a fucking hypocrite. But…bacon, man. It's like…It's so good…"

"You and me both. But good comes from doing as much as we can, wherever we can. Forgive ourselves for being human… Yeah - shutup. Just sayin', paralysis is never an antidote for hypocrisy. Or some shit. Whatever…"

"K. I'm in."

The occasional shot from behind was joined by more enthusiastic shots from the hill ahead…

"See, if we already had an army of tranq drones…"

"We have taser drones."

"We'll bring 'em next time…"

"Next time…"

* * *

 **Max** moved another orb out of their path. They were densely layered to the point that it was difficult to see around them. Rain had picked up, lowering visibility further. She focused on their steps along the muddy roadway, pushing uphill slowly under the barrage.

The sniper at the gate ran out of rounds about the same time the road turned and put a hill between them. A few more further along continued to take potshots at them as they walked. They'd made it about a half a mile further before the first helicopter arrived. Blackhawk, like the one John loaned her a couple of years ago in another branch. This one was a little different, grey, mini-Gatling guns mounted on board. They hovered low to one side at first, fired a line of angry red sparks from the doorway, aiming across the road in front of them. The overloud, anxious brrrrrap sound of the mini-gun, the wall of flying mud and rock - a warning to stop. They went for another warning strafe. Max caught a few hundred rounds and put them in an atomic orbit around the helicopter to wave them off. But the gunner must have interpreted that as an attack, cause he opened up directly into them. Few thousand rounds a minute, cutting toward them through the rain. Long controlled bursts of spitting fire sideways under their umbrella. That's when she switched from the Pac-Man-like trail of orbs floating behind them to the protective shell following along with them. Catch, rotate, repeat. Ended up like a giant tortoise shell, growing wider with each new round.

A few minutes after the first, another helicopter dropped a squad of military troops in the hills ahead. By the time the Humvees with sonic weapons showed up, they were bogging down. New attacks were mostly piling up in the event horizons of the existing bubbles, but they were a constant. It was getting harder to see where they were going. And harder to hear each other over the vehicles and rain and echoing weapons fire in the canyon. Max was strictly playing defensive to this point, but she'd need to change things up if they were gonna continue. Chloe said something about sensing microwaves passing gaps between orbs.

Chloe leaned in close to her. Shouted, "Max…"

"Yeah, Chloe?" Max yelled back.

"I think it might be time to call this one. Feels like we've hit five stars in GTA or something…"

Max wasn't worried. "Sorry… Loud. Hang on." She froze time. Moved their protective shell of stasis bubbles out and away, lined them up facing the hillside. Collapsed. Once time restarted, the captured ordinance would continue on, slamming harmlessly into the dirt.

She scanned the small valley, the air a blend of stationary water drops and thick grey-blue smoke. Now that she had a better view, she could see that the force arrayed against them wasn't very large. A couple dozen well-armed soldiers, a helicopter, some humvees, and what looked like a lone winged drone circling. It wasn't much, but they made up for small initial numbers with a shit-ton of flying metal and directed energy.

The two of them were only three-quarters of a mile past the outer perimeter. And these soldiers were only the first-responders. Radio. Sensors. Alarms. More would follow if they kept going. The real perimeter guard shack was still more than seven miles down the road, and the base was another twenty beyond that. Outer sliver of the outer buffer zone. They weren't anywhere yet.

Max could easily sort it all, but this was an afternoon adventure with Chloe, and she was trying to ride the line between doing too little and doing too much. If she disabled every threat in any one of the thousand ways she could, the two of them would have a nice uneventful hike through the hills. Not the full 'Area-51 infiltration experience' she knew Chloe was looking for. But if she did too little, Chloe would fall to a hail of high caliber rounds every half second or so…

She wanted to chat without either of them yelling. Bubbled the drone, helicopter and the other vehicles, as well as the soldiers positioned behind cover up each valley wall ahead. She let time go. The smack of lead and copper and burning phosphor and steel into the hillside was louder than she expected. The helicopter in particular had been sending an insane volume of projectiles their way. The barrels were static, glowing bright orange.

The quiet that followed was almost total. Only the rainfall. The smell of gunpowder and wet sagebrush was strong. Blue haze drifted in slow patches across the roadway.

Chloe stood up straight, looked around.

Max said quietly, "Better?"

"Much. Thanks dude. That was…a little intense. And less fun than I'd pictured in my head. I don't know what I was expecting. Couldn't even see anything. That probably doesn't get better up ahead unless we start fucking with them, right?"

"I think, yeah. I mean, it's easy enough to do, but I don't want to smooth it completely, you know? I'm here for you. Whatever you want, Chlo. Wanna keep going? Try again?"

"Yeah. Let's call this one a bust. I have another idea." She held a cube between her thumb and index finger. It glowed an intense blue.

Max saw that she was dumping thoughts, memories. "Where do you want me to meet you?"

"Diner parking lot, as we were leaving? If that's okay? I'll explain after you give me this?"

"Sure love. But you know this goes against the total retry count, right?" Max smiled.

Chloe stuck her tongue out. The cube stopped glowing. She handed it to Max, gave her a kiss. "See you when I see you…"

"You too." Max waved, hesitated, finally hit rewind. The orbs returned, rotated the other way, marched slowly backward with the umbrella, picking up speed. The helicopter's guns caught the smoke, fire and bullets thrown back into the barrels, assembled them into ordinance, attached them to the belt, placed them back in the metal ammo box.

She kicked the rewind into overdrive. Back a little over an hour.

Quiet. Empty. Dry. But she was certain sensors and cameras were lighting up again right now, as she stood alone in the road, well beyond their gate.

She folded back to the diner. Rewound her blip-stop in the valley away. No sensor data. No warnings.

Chloe had just walked out of the front door, looking back over her shoulder for Max.

"Hey love." Max was leaned against the Rover in front of her. "Catch."

Chloe reached out, effortlessly picking the cube from the air. "Dammit. Already? How many times?" The glow. "Only one. Oh. Okay, cool…" She leaned against the Rover next to Max, catching up. After a minute, she dropped it into her pocket. Put the alien loot bag inside.

"You said you had another idea?"

* * *

 **Chloe** brushed a hair out of Max's face. "Yeah. No. It was a good try. My fault. Wanted to see how far I could get as a boring old civilian. Was hoping you wouldn't need to be so hardcore on team carry…"

"Most secure facility in the world… can't imagine why it went the way it did." Max said innocently, staring off into space.

"Okay, I deserve that…"

"Kidding. You know I don't mind." Max bumped into her playfully.

"I know. But that was fucking lame dude. Right into a meat grinder. I mean, it was an okay test of you saving my ass with both arms tied behind your back, but…that wasn't a question. Hiding behind you while you do all the work, uh, not how I wanted to do this, you know?"

"I do."

"Okay, cool. So…practice run is out of the way…that was SuperMax and mostly Chloe 1.0."

"So, maybe it's time for an AdequateMax and Chloe 2.0 run?"

"Nah. You're always SuperMax to me. And I think on my best day I'm at more like 1.6. But…the next potential upgrade skips right to version 100k, and I'm…not ready for that yet."

"All you. What's the plan, Stan?"

"This is gonna sound dumb after the shit performance last time, but I wanna do a full-effort solo run. Just to see what I'm capable of on my own, for reals…and maybe you can save my bacon if shit really hits the fan? Or I get an ouchie? Or if I get hungry, you can maybe put the brakes on and bring me actual bacon?" Chloe bumped her back.

"Not dumb. I believe in you. And all the bacons, not a problem. I can park overhead. Keep an eye on things."

"Cool. Would you mind taking us back to the barn real quick? I'd like to prep a little."

"Already home…"

The desert light faded to the warm LEDs of their garage.

* * *

 **Max** took them upstairs after dropping off the Rover. Left Chloe to do her thing in the residence while she wandered up to the roof. She leaned against the half-wall, forty-one floors up, scanned out to the horizon. The city felt quiet. Storm front was off to the west. It would be dark in a couple of hours, but the strip was already lit. Always lit…

She sat back on the bench. Wood. Chloe got if for her a year ago. Modeled after the one her dad made for her back home in Seattle. The grass bent underfoot. A collection of cherry trees, arms winter-bare, whispered in the breeze in the raised planter behind her.

So many times she'd been somewhere, up high, looking out over this valley. This city.

Remembered the first night here; she and Chloe had just moved in. It had been hot - still a hundred-degrees after midnight. Just ridiculously fucking hot. They'd spent half the night floating aimlessly in the pool on their loungers. Lazily throwing floaty-pool-noodles back and forth at each other. The music played across the rooftop, fires going, lights low, just talking, laughing, watching the stars. That night, hanging out with her up here… that's what made this whole city feel like a home. Their home.

 _A hundred degrees. Shit._ It was forty-five now, and dropping fast. Late afternoon, dead of winter. The rain would probably hit here before sunset. _God, this is such a different place in summer…_ Max had to admit, Chloe had thrown some epic pool parties though. Live bands, open bars… Friends and co-workers…

On hot days like that, she loved hanging out on the bench with a lemonade, the shade from the cherry trees cutting the sun overhead into a million shadows. Five, six months and they'd be back in that oven…

 _What's up with me? Mind is so wandery today…_ She refocused on the here and now. The usual lights winked and flashed over toward the strip. A few planes were on approach to the right, a few more were climbing, taking tired vacationers home.

She wondered what Chloe was up to downstairs. _Probably in some sort of data fugue…getting ready…_ She got up, leaned out over the wall again.

 _This'll be good for her. Round two. Solo run. Stretching. Pushing her boundaries. Being one with her expanded badass self. She has confidence, but sometimes I think part of her is still holding back. While the other part is fighting to feel like she's earned the gifts she was given… Can't be easy. I just want her to have fun…_

Max rocked back from the building's edge as thousands of tiny hummingbirds blurred past the roofline with a bright airy hum. They crashed straight up into the sky like a storm wave against a breakwater, kept accelerating. As a flock, they hit altitude, curved north toward Area-51 before spreading out, fading from view.

Max could hear them… the distant sounds of popcorn as each tiny drone went supersonic…


	9. Solo Run

**Chloe** dipped into her own version of real-time, preparing for her solo stealth infiltration of Area 51. Research mode. Downstairs. Gathering. Processing. Releasing more intelligent agents to fill out the active prep squad that she really should have unleashed yesterday…

::

Each thought an instruction.

A creation.

Little pieces of her will.

::

 _Research. Modeling._

 _1:1 render space :: 1cm resolution._

 _Grid, vector, raster, normalize sources against master_

 _Topography._

 _Topology._

 _USGS SDTS._

 _Extract NGIA. NRO._

 _Tertiary sources. Global. Extract::integrate relevant GIS. Comprehensive._

 _Linked constructs._

 _Metadata._

 _Physical layer. Adding. Interpolate_

 _Hydrology. Geology. Erosion. Historical modeling._

 _Plate drift rate:: T-, T+_

 _Survey data. Mineral composition, distribution, mining data. Satellite. Bureau of Land Management. Historical._

 _::_

 _Seismic data. Global. Historical. Comprehensive. Assimilate. Synthesize ambient echo-sounding. Paint the underground. Detailed._

 _Run._

 _::_

 _Weather. Predicted. Current. Historical. Comprehensive. Air currents. Heat distribution. Retention. Snowfall._

 _Plants. Species. Distribution. Properties. Growth._

 _Animals. Endemic. Invaders. Thermographic profiles. Behaviors. Migration. Properties. Patterns._

 _Behavioral layer. Human. Observer movements. Patterns. Anecdotal. Clusters. Sparse._

 _Extrapolate. Anecdote. Regulation. Legal. Human nature, psychology._

 _Comfort. Terrain. Roads. Run CA against assumption models._

 _::_

 _Personnel. Limited data. Not self-advertised._

 _Placeholder. Facial data. Work backward onsite. (Real-time)_

 _Records. Offline. Secure. Not all. Encrypted. Decrypted._

 _Xfer rate slow._

 _::_

 _Contractors. Engineering and test services._

 _JT3 membership roster - target split, push out, crack in._

 _Agencies. Laptops. Tablets. Phones. Throughput of distant endpoints = limiting factor._

 _Push agents to the endpoints for local sourcing, editorial clipping._

 _Go._

 _Additive, rolling._

 _Query limits. Codeword. Phrase. Project nomenclature tables. Historical. Comprehensive._

 _Background process. Collate. Assemble. Integrate as available._

 _::_

 _GSA. Device vendors. Contractors. Public records. Comprehensive._

 _Segmentation. Products. Contracts. Surveillance. Alerting. Spectra. Public detail._

 _Manufacturers. Suppliers. Downstream. Designers. Assemblers. Installers._

 _Chipsets. Circuits. Diagrams. Options._

 _Classified. Target. Unclass. Redistribute. Decrypt._

 _Redacted. Un-mask PDFs. (dumbasses)._

 _Remainder, statistical word distribution and context analysis. Reconstruct._

 _::_

 _Active::Passive. Wavelengths. Reflections. Interference. Modification latitude._

 _Optimal statistical distribution across specific terrain._

 _Assume unlimited (classified) budget._

 _Top 100 models. Cellular automata, 1:1 10cm grid; run._

 _Chokepoints. Gaps._

 _Surfaces._

 _Potential patterns of redundancy. Failover._

 _Filter against pathing, traversability, visibility._

 _::_

 _Placeholder, devices. Coverage. (Extrapolate, ongoing)_

 _Placeholder, EM mapping. Geometric. Reflex, reflectivity, shape analysis. Drones. (Real-time)_

 _Placeholder, discovery:: actual sensor placement, distribution, thermal, power, signal, visual. Drones/core. (Real-time)_

 _Placeholder, ambient chemical drift. (Real-time)_

 _Placeholder, passive multispectral sensing, mapping, analysis. (Real-time)_

 _Placeholder, ops nexus details (Real-time)_

 _Placeholder, systems access (Real-time)_

 _::_

 _Launch drones._

 _Autorun. Autocomplete._

 _::_

 _Let's Fly._

 _Find me a way through, minions…_

 _::_

Distributed, Chloe flew up alongside their tower. Blew past Max, looking out from the rooftop. Chloe did a wing-wag, but Max probably couldn't see it. Not from that far away… _Go…_ She released, shifted. She pulled her attention back. Deeper into the streams…

 _Airbase detail. Remote sites. Structures. Runways. Roadways. Catalog._

 _Datamine telco meta, number patterns, switches, spread geo, compile phone list, cluster, compare._

 _Building, architectural, infrastructural norms._

 _Engineering, congressional, budget, contractor records_

 _Synthesize_

 _Geodata / metadata content suppliers._

 _Public:: ESRI, ArcGIS, GEOeye, SPOT, USGS/EROS/NIMA, Google Maps, Earth, Bing, NAVTeq, Autodesk IMS archive, others_

 _Domestic satellites._

 _Current intelligence caches, domestic. Photos. Maps. Analysis._

 _Conspiracy sites. Building descriptions. Collate. Disregard._

 _Historical archives._

 _Other imaging sources._

 _Classed networks._

 _Outside intelligence agency archives::_

 _Chinese._

 _Russian._

 _French._

 _Israeli._

 _Global._

 _::_

 _Merge above-ground with synthetic subsurface view computed from global historical seismic data, infrastructure and civil engineering archives. (Comprehensive). Grant primacy to recency._

 _::_

 _Atomic test records. Echoes._

 _Tunnels._

 _Chambers._

 _Cavities._

 _Structures._

 _Connectors._

 _::_

 _What's there? What's below? Which buildings lead in? A way down. So much. Where should we go?_

 _::_

 _S4._

 _Papoose Mountain._

 _Where? East side of the lake bed - nothing visible._

 _Rotate._

 _Maps scrubbed? Or camouflaged entrance? Alt: Nonexistent. Invoke herring principal._

 _Other references, keyed s,4, modifiers related to g, em, propulsion / repulsion._

 _::_

 _Alt; south, Site 6._

 _Runway. Vehicles. Fencing. Circle. Structures. Below._

 _Stable complex beyond the mountain, extending below the lake, running between. Linear accelerator? Or rocket track? Legacy? Shallow. Drops down further on one side._

 _Lowest furthest point. Dense seismic-acoustic returns._

 _::_

 _Most bunkery part of the bunkerest bunker…_

 _Closest to the atomic test range…_

::

 _Another possible target._

 _::_

 _Upgrade ant-bot distribution density for rapid interior mapping:: compressed sensing config, single pixel cameras._

 _Transport…_

 _Carrier drone transport. Stealth. Active, adaptive._

 _Self-replicating gen.4 ant-bots, networked. N+10,000_

 _1,000 gen.8 roach-bots, networked. Piggyback._

 _Go…_

::

 _Good a test as any…_

Chloe blinked. Minutes of world time had passed. She'd been directing her minions, digital and drone, building and setting new ones in motion to hunt and gather. She had a lot of what she wanted. The rest would come to the core on autopilot now… Her agents were smart enough to move themselves, follow the breadcrumbs, send back what she wanted. And once the drones started layering in their real surface, structural and interior scan data over her model, she'd have a good idea for where to have Max drop her off - and where they'd end up. Just-in-time delivery…

She headed downstairs.

 _Last detail before we go…grab the Yeti. If we can make it through the outer perimeter to the main base, that feels like a decent enough beta._

 _Just need to throw together an appropriate playlist before we hit the road._

 _Let's see…Die Antwoord theme for this little reboot?_

 _Antidote to that last fuckin' run anyway…_

 _Unintended meaning, but oddly appropriate, from a certain point of view… '_

 _'Mount Ninji and da Nice Time Kid'…_

 _…won't be out 'til later this year, but…since she was nice enough to leave me her library…_

 _Use the album as a seed. Build._

 _Boom!_

 _Let's go, bitches!_

* * *

 **Max** dropped Chloe off behind a big rock, halfway up the mostly barren hillside, a mile outside the border. Chloe marked the spot on the map with an X before they left. Frozen in time, her active camo still displayed a portion of their rooftop, but it would only take a sec to refresh to the new surroundings once Max let time go.

With Chloe properly staged for her solo run, Max bubbled for the overwatch ascent. She rose up on a captured hemisphere of rock and dirt into the late afternoon sky.

The pale green sagebrush peppered the hillside below, the ground a painted mix of beige, dark brown and reds, rapidly dropping away. The storm clouds were close, over to the west. Maybe a little splash of rain hanging underneath. She could see over the mountains to the dry lake bed in the distance, caught the outline of the airstrips.

 _It's a lot bigger than I pictured out here. Way more flat and spread out. Lot of ground for her to cover unseen…_

 _Oh. Shit. Unseen…_

 _Ugh._

It occurred to Max that she had no idea how differential bubbles worked with radar. They were new to this timeline, and they hadn't had a reason to test that specifically yet. She took a moment to puzzle it through.

 _Okay, boundary layer of a volume of frozen time will buffer matter and energy at the event horizon, so no radar reflections… But they'll pass right through this one - prolly with a teeny little time delay, but still. Might ghost back a little? I don't know. I'm not very big either, but the rock at the bottom is a nice solid curving target._

 _Wrong shape. Crap. That'll be bright as fucking day…_

 _I don't wanna fuck up Chloe's run. Hovering over the top-not-so-secret ultra-paranoid super-base she's trying to infiltrate while standing on a giant radar reflector… prolly not helping with the whole 'stealth' thing._

 _Okay Max, so what's your plan? Watching over her is part of the deal. Guess I could go back down, try again? This time without capturing a platform? Maybe if I sorta hopped up in the air and bubbled myself? Or jumped off a rock, maybe? If I don't twist an ankle coming down… But what do I stand on? The bottom, or? Right. Cause the edge isn't a thing. The bubble defines a volume…_

 _I mean, okay, think this through. What would happen? Or, better question, what's actually happening? I'm manipulating the existence and position of a local volume of relatively offset time-space… but is my body carried along for the ride inside it? Or is my body the focal point that everything else locks to? Do I move the bubble? Or me? What's my frame of reference here? Am I standing on this rock, or am I carrying the rock and everything else along? That's…a …these are damn good questions. And there's no reason to believe it couldn't be whatever I chose, if I…chose to…choose it…I guess? Eh._

 _Begs for a quick little experiment though. Chloe's gonna be down there alone, and I can't give her away like a giant dumbass. That would be cheating. Take a few minutes. How much trouble could she get into at the start?_

Max broke away. Took herself a couple of miles east of Chloe, out over empty desert where no one would get hurt by the falling rock. And hopefully out of range of any peering eyes. She held position about ten thousand feet up. Took a moment to admire the view. Storm and desert and sun dropping and… _Always appreciate the moments, Max. Always…_

She restarted the flow of the universe.

 _Chloe will be on her way now…_

Max re-synched the contents of her sphere with the rest of reality. The boundary edge collapsed. After a too-brief Coyote-like pause, Max's stomach leapt up into her throat as her body dropped. She plummeted straight down with the hemispherical slab of rock. Wind rushed past her loudly as the rock kicked sideways, moving out from under her, throwing surface dirt and debris into a cloud around them. It flipped over in the air, edge barely missing her, searching for aerodynamic equilibrium. Wobbling violently. They continued falling together.

 _Pretty high up. Little bit of time to adjust._

 _Worst case, I'll rewind-cancel at the bottom and try again._

 _Need to get away from this stupid rock though… go away, rock! Nothing personal…_

She thought to spread her arms on the way down, catch a little air. Drag. Wasn't sure it would do much. She remembered her experiments with gravity last week, had another random thought. _Yep. Just a little bit - enough to pull me away from it so I can make a new empty bubble…_ _No need to go leaping off cliffs like a spazmoid lemming. Well, to be fair, they don't really do that either…_

Least she'd be a smaller radar target by herself. And she could confirm a couple of her own suspicions about bubble frame and control in the process. The rock first. Her intention was to compress the space directly above her, but at the last moment, she decided to expand some space below her too, for an extra little safety push. Should reshape geometries just enough to sort of tap the brakes on her fall for a second or two. _It'll be enough to create a separation from it, anyway…_

As she did, everything exploded into total blackness, then bright light.

She knew she'd made a mistake… panic-stopped, dumped back into black. An intense flash of light above her. Disoriented… Off guard. The air in her lungs burst out past her nose and mouth, saliva fizzed on her tongue, sublimating directly from liquid to gas. The moisture on her eyes boiled away without heat. Blinked. The only sound was her body beating in time with her heart. She didn't feel the cold yet. Took her eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. If she'd had any breath left, the view would have taken it away. At least in the few moments before her vision blurred, distorted as her eyes changed shape. She realized what she'd done.

Closed her eyes against the vacuum, rolled them at herself behind the lids, and quickly established a closed bubble around her. Opened a tiny wormhole inside linking to a spot a hundred feet above sea-level over the Caribbean. Her ears popped as warm evening atmosphere rushed back in, equalizing pressure. She gulped at the scented mix of sea air and… _burnt raspberry chocolate chip cookies? Weird…_

Her heart slowed. She refocused her attention outside.

With no city lights, with no blazing sun, there was nothing to pollute her view of endless distant stars. With each passing second, she could make out more detail… In one direction, the glowing bulge of the galactic center, partially hidden. Walls of light behind unimaginably large streamers of dark dust… In the other, perpendicular, the bulge of another galactic center, equally close, elongated, arms twisting, distorted…pulled apart…surrounding her.

It took her a moment.

She was witness to the early stages of a merger between two large spiral galaxies. From inside. A slow motion gravitational dance that would join them into one, unfolding over millions of years… She lingered for a few silent minutes, absorbed in the strangeness and immensity.

 _It's…so beautiful…_

 _…but…_

 _oh man… I think I accidentally warp drived. Warp…drove? …driven? Maybe just 'warped', I guess?_

 _Crap._

 _But…all this… it means I didn't just leave Earth. Or the solar system…_

 _This isn't the fucking Milky Way…_

 _Damn._

 _Um. Okay…I have no idea where 'here' is…_

 _or which direction is home…_

* * *

 **Chloe** appeared behind a dusty rock, crouched. Well, maybe not 'appeared', so much as 'arrived'? Appearance implied visibility. Which was hopefully not the case.

She'd been on their roof a moment ago. Max had obviously done her thing, dropped her off in the freeze. Chloe assumed she was somewhere up above. Probably chillin' in a happy little bubble of climate-controlled time-space, enjoying the fading light, watching over her with amusement… She didn't give voice to the obvious heavenly associations. Laughed in her head anyway.

Closed her physical eyes. Oriented herself in the landscape. Northeastern edge of the wide, dark and complex mountain range between the two distant entrance gates, facing southwest. Far from the beaten path. Twenty miles as the drone flies, and she'd be overlooking Groom Lake in person.

Now that she had her array of mobile tech up, the whole of the area was like Vegas to her. Computational reality. A new inverse retina, spanning the entire region. Everything the drones could detect in any wavelength, mixed with the other data layers at the core. Every useful or relevant bit her agents could find…or were still discovering…

She opened her eyes.

The shadowy hillside rose above to broken rocky peaks, leading edges of clouds out of sight beyond. In the other direction, the hill sloped away to the wide valley floor. She took note of the landmarks. Plants. Boulders. Lined things up.

Blinked. Merged the computational god-view with her own eyes and perspective. Tweaked alignment. Felt the momentary flash of vertigo. First time in a while. New space. She looked out through this blended, augmented version of reality, saw everything clearly. Whole.

It was all a question of focus.

Same challenge their security forces had in reverse, really. So much land. So much detail. More than anyone could take in at once. Their response to the wide spaces and limited inventory of human attention had been to create and control a few magnet transit points. Their people could watch and engage those spaces directly. Randomly patrol some of the rest.

Outside of that, on the base itself, across the lake bed and roads and hills, they relied on full spectrum electronic surveillance. There was an outer perimeter, but it defined an area, not a ring. Inside, the electronic blanket was nearly a constant. They'd built a system to focus their people's attention on the exceptions. Alarms, alerts, triggers. Probably some sort of pseudo AI calling the shots.

That meant no alerts, no attention.

Her minions were working on that too.

Before leaving, Chloe used the local core to focus her attention on everything, all at once. A thousand square miles, all inputs. For a brief period, anyway. Long enough to analyze, pick an optimal path through. One that would play to her strengths, limit exposure, and avoid their areas of strength or attention. She had paths to alternates if something unexpected came up. But to start, it landed her here. That jagged line to her destination was all she needed to worry about. It was work from here to travel the path. The worst terrain. Technical. But that was the point.

 _Ninja._

Their sensor mesh wasn't as dense as she'd expected. Still held a few surprises. More if it was long range, wide angle, hyper-spectral and high resolution. She'd confirmed the mix of active and passive, sight, sound, seismic, movement, energy, with more chemical and spectrometer sensing than she'd expected. Not just detection, but a layer of field-analysis. Some was obviously designed to differentiate. Probably to cut down false positives from wildlife.

They'd made an effort to hide some of the tech, but didn't necessarily need to. Disabling any one device would likely set off alarms by itself, and it would be hard to do without being seen by at least two or three other sensors anyway. Deterrence was as much a part of their security strategy as the array itself.

Her preliminary thoughts about power distribution were only half right. For some sensors, it seemed they pumped power back down the data fibers as laser light. For others, they used long-lasting tritium cells in place of solar or batteries. And many of the sensor end units weren't co-located with their supporting tech boxes. Buried. Probably to cut down on maintenance as much as hide them. More than a few sensors extended above ground endoscopically as a result, so heat detection wasn't as reliable an indicator as she'd hoped in the initial drone passes.

But nature rarely builds the same way people do. In the preliminary sweeps, materials, colors, reflections, straight lines and perfect curves gave away almost every manmade object inside the perimeter. Once blended with the rest of the spectrum, core analysis, data, the sensors were exposed. Mapped. Understood. Cones or areas of detection projected out in her overlay view now. Heat blooms of trucks, sniper nests, people. Their dumb drones overhead. Every threat tagged, every movement tracked. Watchers were watched. Not yet controlled.

Pressure and vibration pads were positioned mostly along roads and trails. A few chokepoints through passes. IR, acoustics, nuclear, biological, chemical…others were a mix. Some distribution was randomized. More were clustered where terrain was most favorable to movement. Smooth spaces. Dips. Valleys. Ridges. Mixed it up. A little beyond current era civilian tech. They'd been at this for generations, operating under black budgets. Still, it was fairly low tech, all things considered.

They'd obviously spent time on it though. Applied a rigorous thought process, a goal-oriented set of rules. Those rules made it almost too easy to reverse engineer the layout, even without her little spies to verify everything.

Tens of thousands of sensors, but far fewer along her chosen path. Chosen for that reason. Not many would pose a real detection threat. The rain, and eventually snow, would be a help and a hindrance to her at some point. There were a handful of sensors further on that she couldn't avoid. She'd work on a plan for those as she moved. Still the best path overall.

She could wait for the micro-drones to infiltrate electronically. Tell the sensors to lie. She'd end up there. But not yet. That would help her, but wouldn't be a good test of the suit. Ops teams might be relying on this design at some point, and they wouldn't necessarily have her other skills.

"The more you know…" she said under her breath.

Seamless now. Shifting POV from herself to any point in space within the sensor bubble in real-time. She could read the brand of cigarette the cammo dude in the truck above the front gate was smoking. Pebbles on the runway on the far side of the lakebed. _Careful - spoilers._ The first of the ant-bots, imaging around corners, looking for ways inside, down… _Huh. Found the chow hall…_

She watched herself from above, crouched at the rock. She had the right tools to see. Checked the fit of her body suit, looked for gaps, misalignments. Good so far. This design sacrificed ballistic protection for stealth. Traded the non-Newtonian layering of the other beta design for better thermal masking and the necessary internal electronics to make the disappearing tricks work. Different application, different philosophy of use.

When it was turned off, it loomed like a tangled mess. A high tech ghillie suit. When John first saw it, he dubbed it 'the Yeti'. Name stuck.

Most active or adaptive camouflage designs shared the same basic problems as camouflage in general. Backgrounds changed. And sharp lines or inappropriate contrast would draw the eye. Edges. Reflections. Highlights. Shadows. Movement. If things didn't line up perfectly, or if the light was just so, the illusion could be ruined, giving everything away. And staying hidden in visible light didn't necessarily mean camouflaged in other areas. Spectrum, sounds, trails, movement through an environment…

So her design was simple…she was thinking primitive, but caught herself. _Accessible at this point in history without too much nano-fab._ That was better.

The soft, feather-light flexible strips that made up the irregular shaggy bulk were both sensor and display. The surfaces of each strip an elegant blend of semi-luminous micro-prismatic faceting and advanced light field optics. As a whole, the suit worked to understand the chaotic light and temperature environment on all sides, sense the position and direction of each nanocrystal face, and reproduce and redirect the appropriate information around the wearer. Not images - information about light and heat. Controlled scatter and Interference painted around her. This left her optically camouflaged from visible through IR, independent of lighting or background. And perhaps more importantly, independent of the angle or number of observers present. And no edge outlines with the irregular shapes…

It wouldn't fool someone standing right there, face to face. Or if she walked right up to a sensor. But with even moderate distance, the wearer simply vanished. Flattened into nothing. Simplicity in chaos. Any errors in the mesh were well below the pixel densities of modern optical CCDs, including the multispectral gigapixel cameras dotting the ridges. The suit should work just fine, as long as she kept an eye on distance to sensors, and kept to her path.

 _Time._

 _Wish me luck, Max._

She blew an invisible kiss to the sky as she stood. Stepped out from behind the rock, shambled slowly, irregularly, up the side of the first hill.

* * *

 **Max** was all turned around. Any sense of scale, distance or direction was blown out here, floating in the black. No recognizable landmarks. _No…land…_

Could she recognize her home galaxy by sight? If she was able to resolve it from here at all - which seemed unlikely… She'd never seen it from the outside. And it was only one out of two-trillion possible galaxies… and that was just in her region of the visible universe, a little under fourteen-billion light years in every direction. But how far had she gone? That sphere of visibility would center on her wherever she was. And even the observable universe, some ninety-three-billion light years across, wasn't the _whole_ universe… No guarantee there would be overlap. Home could be on the other side of an event horizon, keeping time with the expansion of the universe… Odds are, she'd never see its light at all.

 _It all looks the same from here._

But assuming she could find her home galaxy, would she know where to find her home star within it? Or the trinary star system that lit their off-world pirate fort? Four, out of a hundred billion swirling stars, ordinary in every way?

 _Probably not by sight… No maps… No visual markers._

This was so remarkably different from peering into the night sky from Earth. Or Planet Steve. Or even her brief look from their dark cube in the shadow of earth earlier. Every pinpoint was a star… And with two merging galaxies, there were _so_ many, with new hot blue ones forming at the gas-shock boundaries. So clear. So many. And here she was, out floating among them.

 _…on a Tuesday._

Under her own power, too. She hadn't folded from one bit of space to the next - she'd surfed a goddamn wave of her own making… _A warp drive_ , dragging space itself. Superluminal, but without all that relativistic time-dilation nonsense. It had been less than a second or two. But it took her very, very far from home.

She rotated slowly.

 _Holy._

 _Shit._

 _I mean, WTF, dude… for fucking reals…_

 _Learn something new…_

 _Obviously don't have the field strength thing down yet though._

She startled as her phone rang.

* * *

 **Chloe** was hidden there, at the bottom of the rock wall. Smooth, it loomed a few stories overhead. First broken cliff of many. There were several irregularities in the face she'd use to go over. Scouted them out earlier. She'd read somewhere that climbers mostly used their legs. With her enhanced strength, she wasn't finding that to be necessary.

She jumped up about six-feet, slid her hand just inside a small vertical crevice. Cupped, wedged, hanging there for a moment. With that arm, she pulled herself up, kept going. Caught a ledge another couple of feet above with her other hand. From there, she shimmied to the right on her fingertips. Held. Launched upward another four feet to grab an outcropping. She nearly lost balance as a few strands from the suit got between her shoe and the rock face. She recovered, swung back and forth to build momentum. Pushed up and to the left to slip her hand into another crack.

She continued this pattern for a few minutes, from one handhold to another, eventually pulling herself up over the top edge. She stopped, stayed low. There was a thermal sensor not far away. Should be outside detection range, but just barely. She thought about imposing the heat signature of a small deer, but with their level of paranoia, they'd probably already have all the real ones tagged, and would walk this one back to an optical verification or something.

She'd move slow and to the right to ensure she wasn't seen.

* * *

 **Max** fumbled in zero gravity, pulled out her phone.

 _Unknown caller._

 _Of course it is…_

"Um… Hello?"

"Hey Max."

"John?!"

"Far as I know? You sound surprised. Bad time?"

"How…? No, I mean… Sorry… I'm just a little spaced out I guess? Heh. No pun. What's, uh, what's up?"

She chuckled a little to herself. Slowly reached out with her other hand, as if to touch the wall of stars in front of her. _Fucking hell that's pretty…_

"Just checking in. Thought you and Chloe were going dark, heading to you-know-where this afternoon, but I just saw an update that you popped up in Nassau?"

Max put it together. "Oh… yeah. Phone. Tower. Wormhole. Duh. Yeah. Sorry. No. False alarm…"

"Okay…wait - wormhole? Are you sure everything's alright, Max?"

'Yeah… Thanks for checking in, John."

"No, seriously. Max. Did you get sucked into a wormhole?!"

"No, no. I uh, no, I made one. Small one I mean. I was in a hard vacuum and needed some air. Kinda made an emergency snorkel. Sorry - I know that sounds super 'not-okay', but really, I'm fine. I just miscalculated with something and kinda accidentally ended up somewhere else. …you know wormholes don't really suck people in, right?"

"Max… Vague."

"Sorry. Hang on… um, go to video…" Max tapped over to a real-time feed. John was at a desk. Blinding. She quickly turned down the brightness.

"I can barely see you. Underground?"

"Other way. Hang on…" She switched to the main lens facing away from her. Better camera. "I don't know how this is gonna look, but tell me what you see?"

He squinted at his screen. "What am I looking at? I see smudges of less dark, but it's pixelated and blurry and you keep moving."

"Sorry. How's this?" Max held the phone steady, then carefully released it, letting it float free.

John's face on the screen side of the phone went blank. "Max, is that…"

"Yeah. Not Kansas, I think."

He smiled at the camera, shook his head. "What are you up to? Chloe okay? You guys steal a UFO or something? You don't know where you are, do you?"

She laughed. "No idea, she's fine, no, and…none whatsoever. Could be literally anywhere. Hey! Speaking of 'lost' though, how's Trace? You guys better now? She taking everything in stride, or?"

John laughed. "You want to talk about that now? You're trapped god knows where, and your first thought is to ask how my girlfriend is adjusting to life behind our odd little curtain?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, I haven't talked with you since then. And please - I'm hardly trapped…"

"Sorry… Well she seems, I don't know…really enthusiastic, I guess is a way to put it? You know, Max, sorry — can we talk about this later? You're obviously floating. I'm at one-g… It's like we're in different worlds right now… Then there's the long distance charges…"

Max smiled. "Funny… And fine. Later. I guess I should prolly get back to…whatever it is that's happening out here…"

"You're really weird, Max. You know that right? It's cool. just…keep being you, I guess…"

"Only way I know…"

"Oh, and if you spin back at all, remind me later how funny I was in your time of distress? Like how I helped take the edge off a tense situation, helped you rediscover your faith in yourself, and reignited the courage you needed to find your way home safely?"

"Promise." she laughed.

"Godspeed."

"Smartass. And on that note…"

John chuckled. "Catch you later Max."

"You too, John. Thanks again for checking in. I'm heading back in a few…"

She disconnected. Stared into the distance. She could make out colors a little better now.

 _God, Chloe's gonna absolutely flip her shit when she sees this… She's back there looking for alien starships, and I think I kinda maybe just became one a little…_

Max gave herself a once-over. No real damage from her brief seconds of vacuum exposure. She knew she should head back, but wasn't ready. Not yet. Not until she had a better sense of the accidental movement that got her out here.

She picked a star at random, thinking to head toward it. But there was no way to tell distance, and no way to know which stars were closest. Not from where she was. _Not from a single point of view._

She needed to move to a different vantage point, to see which stars moved where. Using her eyes. That would give her a better three-dimensional map of her local area. Motion. Like walking around a tree to unflatten the view of branches and leaves.

She pushed a little. Couldn't tell if she'd moved. The distances were so unimaginably vast. And stars would be so far apart… She pushed a little harder. Small movement, but too fast. Jerked. The stars flipped to different positions, but it was more like a stutter or a jump-cut. Not smooth…

She remembered that she was dealing with light years between stars, so as she moved around in space, they'd appear to be in different places, depending on how far each was from her at the start and at the finish. She'd never see things as they really were right now - only as they'd been when light left them. Where they'd been… And that would change as she drew toward some stars and away from others.

Not like moving around a tree, exactly. More like…moving through overlapping light shells. She'd only ever get a distorted, time-dependent view of where things were. But knowing that… She needed to see them move. That would give her a way to make sense of it. Predict. Learn how things related to each other over relativistic distances… A new way to see her adopted reality. And for that to work, she needed smoother movements… Curves.

 _Don't jump, Max._

 _Flow…_

She could hear Chloe's voice in the back of her mind. Her blue Yoda. Coaching across multiple timelines… Lessons were often variations on a theme. _Trust yourself. Let go of fear. Let go of control._

Somewhere along the way, Max had gotten better at learning, too. Things came so much faster now. She wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe she'd walked free of the thoughts holding her back… Moved beyond fear. Self-doubt. Worry. Of any sense of the impossible… At least when it came to her own weird relationship with this universe. With the things she could do. She'd mastered so many new skills in this fresh timeline alone. _Refreshed timeline…_ Embraced her curiosity with the confidence that nothing could go wrong, that no bad could happen, and there was nothing that couldn't be undone… She experienced reality free from concern about permanent consequences. Immortal, with all the time and space in the universe… She knew she was advancing so much faster than she ever had. Accelerating… _toward what?_

She took a deep breath. Cleared the cluttered thoughts from her mind.

 _Alright, Chloe…_ Without thinking too much about how, she focused only on what she wanted to have happen.

She picked a bright point to be her center pivot. Starting slow and picking up speed, she rotated the universe around her chosen star like it was one of Chloe's holo-models. Intellectually, she knew she was the one following a curving circular path through space, in a warp, while facing a single star. But in the same way it was easier to visualize stopping and starting the universe, rather than altering the motion of her path of intersection along time-like dimensions she couldn't see, it was easier to imagine she was the one staying in place while she barrel-rolled the universe around a star in front of her. Her point of view. Relative. Simplified things.

She felt the energy building up again - like static at the edges as she warped. That brightness. Radiation. Particles trapped. She altered the shape of the warp bubble in real time until it went away. Oscillating the outer edges of the wave, shedding, cutting through, rather than trapping. No dead spaces. No particle vortices. No more static. No more light. Kept rotating.

Turned out, her radius from the star wasn't too large. But the rotation clearly showed her the relative positions and movement of stars around it. She was on her second full orbit when she reversed the rotation. Easy as jogging time. She switched to another axis. She could see it now. Had a sense for the time-distance displacements and distortions. How it looked. How they moved. What it meant. Where things ended up versus where they'd been when viewed from a different place. It was a little like walking along a flowing, turbulent, but clear creek. There was a pattern to the movements of light in there that made sense in four dimensions.

She pulled the star to her. Stopped. Point of view again…for whatever reason, it really was easier to make it all go when she pictured it that way. Felt more natural. _Godmode. NoClip._ She laughed. Had the hang of it now.

 _This is…so incredibly fucking cool!_

Reminded her of a dream she'd had once…

The star she chose was about the same size in the sky as the moon or sun when seen from Earth. But that still didn't give her a sense of distance. Didn't know how big it was. Seemed reddish, but it was…a star. Very bright. She didn't look directly into it. _Thanks for the pro-tip, Don't-Look-into-the-Sun Worm…_

Didn't really matter exactly how far away, she thought.

She couldn't make out any planets in the glare.

 _Because you're stationary… Keep up._

She rotated everything around the star, looking for any close-in reflections. Orbital blips. Any small points that hugged in close. _Could I train myself to notice? To feel them from this far away? What_ ** _is_** _'far away' in my context? …my 'other' context?_

She shifted axis again. Caught one. Half the distance she was. Pulled it to her.

Circled around it. A few hundred miles above, at least.

No atmosphere. It was larger than earth. She could feel that, now that she was close. Mostly rocky world. Craters. Sun blasted. Reds and browns. No signs of water or clouds. No feel of a magnetic field.

She descended to the surface, floating a few feet above. Dirt. Dust. The occasional shattered flat rock. A lot like Luna, only in reds instead of grays. Glassy rock powder. Not much more to see.

 _Hey, random planet. What should we call you? Sorry - 'Steve' is already taken. 'Bob', you say? You seem more like a 'Robert', but okay…_

Bob's barren surface made the desert back home seem like a jungle of life in comparison.

 _Back home. Chloe. Right._

 _I've got this for now. Should get back…_

She looked up into the black sky of an empty world. Even this close to a sun, she could still make out the twisting arms, the pulling and blending of so many more stars beyond.

After a final look at her newly discovered galaxies, she shrugged, folded back to earth. Above the desert she'd left. She knew the place, even if she didn't know the linear direction. Her universe centered on Chloe. _Always orbiting Chloe…_

 _Hey sagebrush…_

 _Miss me?_

She noticed her orientation in the bubble. _Still free-floating in the center I guess…_ _Long fucking way for that answer… Shit…_ She laughed, unlatched, repositioned herself within, let gravity pull her toward the bottom. Let her wormhole collapse. She sat cross-legged on the inside of the curved lower boundary. _Or am I pulling the lower part up to me? It's all relative. Portals, Max. Do I even need the bubble? Is it too weird to think I could move myself around without it? Especially now? After that? Why is 'with it' any different? It's just more volume, mass… Does it actually do anything at all? Besides life support and keeping bugs out of my teeth, I mean? Could…wait… can I fly?_

She saw something move, breaking her thoughts.

A hummingbird rocked up, paused outside her bubble, spun in a circle around her. Flitted away.

 _So Chloe knows where I am at least… It's her time. Don't be shellfish, Max. Let's…uh…save this line of thought for a non-radar evading moment…_

She moved back to where she'd released Chloe. Looked down, couldn't see her anywhere. Fewer than ten minutes had passed since dropping her off. Wouldn't be far. Max still had the map in her back pocket. Beyond the X of the drop-off point, Chloe had inked-in her path, calling out time markers near certain points. Chloe's best guesses on where she'd be, when.

Max would try to stay overhead as much as possible. Safety net. As long as there was nothing for her to see, there was probably no problem… And she figured that if Chloe knew where she was, that was enough.

Max rose up off the floor, floating free again. Centered. She rotated her body, facing down. Given the airspace she'd be floating through, she was sensitive to the idea that she might need to account for some additional minor levels of stealth. Just to make it as fair as possible. She didn't think the boundary layer would reflect energy, but she wasn't sure.

She planned to hang right at the edge of the cloud bottoms, so any errant reflections off her own body would match up with the cloud layer. More likely to be dismissed. Didn't know if they were tuned to resolve things as small as drones, or just big things like planes. _Guess we'll find out…_ She tweaked the external shape of her little bubble of reality, opting for a mix of flat angles, biased down and toward the airbase. If there were radar reflections from her body, this might intercept and move some of them away at an angle before they hit her, rather than back to the source. Or not? Keep her cross-section small, if there was one. She didn't know if any of it would help.

She masked her heat as best she could from below by playing with flow rates in another angular paper-thin layer hugging the first. Turned off her phone. Didn't want to take any chance that her presence would be detected, risk artificially inflating Chloe's retry counter.

As she floated on, Max shook her head.

Sometimes, when she stepped back, it caught up with her a little.

She smiled at the absurdity of it all…

 _This day. Here. Out there. Time travel and UFOs and tech-invisibility and synthetic butterflies from the future and color changing hair and personal fucking warp drives and… I mean - I was just in another galaxy… another. fucking. galaxy._

 _…galaxies, I guess. for now…_

 _Whatever._

 _Shit's so not normal…_

* * *

 **Chloe** had been at it for a few hours. The early rain gave way to snow. Time and altitude. She was navigating a very specific three-dimensional maze. Fluid over obstacles, she moved through a mix of walking, ducking, climbing and occasionally even crawling in halting shadow-steps like an iguana. Estimated she'd covered about half the distance over the mountain range. The light was long gone, but whatever. It was such a small slice of the spectrum anyway.

The trip exposed a weakness in the lower edges of the Yeti though. Picked up mud and dirt. Interfered with the optics and the redistribution of heat and light field information. She stopped a couple of times to clean the worst of the cruft from the strips. The rain and eventual snow minimized her exposure to sensors, but it was worth noting all the same. Next rev, she'd try a negative electrostatic charge. A small chemical tweak, and the charge would self-generate with the friction of movement. She filed the thought away.

She was feeling good about her chances. Made good time. No missteps, no alarms. The terrain along most of her chosen route was irregular and highly verticalized, which made sense. Difficult, unforgiving terrain wouldn't be anyone's first choice - so it was least watched. Why she'd chosen it. The landscape wasn't presenting any problems for her. Two years ago, she'd have collapsed in a ditch within the first ten minutes. _Five, realistically._

A mile back, she'd encountered the first anticipated problem along her route. An unavoidable motion sensor crossover. There wasn't a good way around them. It was a coincidental chokepoint in her way. But there wasn't a better option. Still the best path. If she'd gone forward through it at regular speed, she probably would have tripped one of the two against the background snow. But she was patient. Spent twenty minutes rotating the two distant sensor mounts, slow and smooth. Opened a three-foot gap she was eventually able to pass through. _TK for the win…_

She'd made it to the mid-range. A few inches of snow over dark rock. A see-saw of ups and downs in a sort of wide, irregular plateau. Sharp crumbly peaks between shallow sand and grit gullies, few hundred yards apart. Even the sagebrush were sparse up here. She'd seen a few tracks in the snow, but no animals to speak of.

Erosion exposed the folded red and brown sedimentary layers that had once been a rolling flood-plain, and millions of years before that, part of a sea floor. Some rocks lay exposed, scattered, cracked and broken from repeated heating and cooling. She scanned around for any fossils, as much for Max as her own curiosity. Didn't seen any in her immediate area. Too much snow, not enough detail. Continued on. LIDAR sweeps kept her low, behind sagebrush through this section.

After another two hours of hard terrain, she was near the lake-end of the mountain range. She didn't have line of sight to the basin yet, but watched a pair of F-16s take off from the main Groom Lake runway complex in her head. They turned, vectored north, but stayed fairly close to the deck, just below the cloud line. Further back, right before dark, she'd watched one of the passenger jets depart. White, single red stripe along the side. Regional ATC had it tagged as Janet-13. Headed for McCarran.

Aside from those two take-offs, it had been pretty quiet. Midweek January storm in Dreamland… She'd kept an eye on the skies. Max was rolling with the clouds, a thousand feet above and a mile behind.

Chloe passed some old rusted mine equipment, then dropped back down to crawl behind a shallow ledge, bypassing a nearby ridge-top camera. Optics wouldn't pick her up, probably. But no reason to take chances. She'd made it this far. Been good about updating the cube every twenty minutes or so too, just in case.

With the darkness, the air temps fell into the high twenties. She'd been running at a reduced body temperature for a while, but there were limits to masking with high differentials. If she'd been wrong about this winding line, or there was even one missed IR sensor, she'd have had no chance of passing undetected in the cold.

As she moved, she followed the progress of her ant and roach-bots. A small adaptive-camo drone had successfully scattered them across the main base before she started the run. Continued over Papoose Mountain, dropping more over the general area where the S4 facility entrance was rumored to be. _If it existed at all?_ Finally releasing the remainder over the fenced in area defining the security perimeter for Site-6, a dozen miles further south. That was a wildcard, but Chloe had a feeling. It was outside the 'shoot to kill' high security zone that defined Area 51, and was completely visible from public roads. Close, but not entirely obvious. It's how she'd do it. Then again, could as easily be nothing. She'd know more later.

Roaches were doing their own thing. Assigned to interior scans of buildings and tunnels, mostly. Some ants scouted, others foraged for resources, made more ants. The copies then went off by wing to scout. Or make more copies if they found a good material cache. She was hoping there really was some sort of central control or surveillance ops center somewhere on the base itself. If just one scout could find it, replicate and start on the links and fractal antennas, she'd own it.

She was banking on that before attempting her descent to the valley floor. Climbing up and over, she wove through the nets of sensors, out of view. But coming down the other side, there was nothing. A long, wide, gentle snowy slope. She'd be completely exposed. Nowhere to hide from human eyes. She had a sensor path. Optics or thermals from the base or overhead drones wouldn't be the immediate problem. The dark trail of footsteps through the thin snowfall would be enough to give her away if anyone was scanning by eye.

She just needed to make it across the dry lake bed to the base proper. She'd be super fucking happy with that. Then Max could pick the cube up, wind back, and drop them right where they needed to be. She'd hopefully have the location of their security operations center confirmed, the test data from the Yeti, and the satisfaction of knowing she'd been able to infiltrate to the base by herself.

 _Home stretch._

* * *

 **Max** wasn't able to find Chloe at all with her camouflage active. And once they lost sunlight, she couldn't see the terrain below her either. Just the lights from the base, the cars back on the main roads, and the air-glow on the horizon from Vegas when the clouds let it through.

She'd popped back home shortly after sunset to pick up some night vision glasses. They looked like ordinary eyeglass frames, but there was something with graphene and transparent nanocrystals on opposite sides of the glass that made it work. Self-powering, converted a wide band of infrared directly into visible light. Different application of the same base materials they'd used to make the holo-displays. But…fewer lasers or something.

When she got back, she still couldn't see Chloe. But everything else was nice and clear.

She floated on for hours, stopping the world every hour or so to come down, stretch her legs. Careful not to leave footprints in snow. Went back home once to feed Emo and raid the cupboard for snacks. Took a short nap in the freeze. Phone still off, she looked at her LCD frog watch. _Nearly 10PM._ Chloe would be nearing the edge of the runway any time. According to her map notes, anyway.

Max was eventually met by three hummingbirds. They seemed insistent, racing ahead, then back, then darting ahead and waiting. So she followed. They brought her to the northeast corner of the runway. About fifty feet off the edge of the tarmac, a little way into the dry lake bed. She set down, dropped her bubble, crouched in the cold snow, waiting.

Rustling. "Pssst."

Max looked around.

"Pssst."

The other way.

She felt a tap on her shoulder. Smiled and whispered into the darkness, "Hey love. You made it!"

Chloe kneeled beside her in muddy climbing shoes, black cargo pants and a grey tank top. Her face picked up some of the amber lights from the runway. Soft glow. Hair was a mess, plastered to her head. Her camo suit was bunched up, fluffy under one arm. She leaned in, snow crunching under her shifting weight, pecked Max on the cheek. "Of course. You know who you're talkin' to."

"You have control, or are we about to be super popular?"

"Oh, please. Dude. I wouldn't have brought you down…"

"Checking. Have fun?"

"Uh-huh… I mean, it was painstakingly slow going in parts, but yeah. Actually I did… I feel like I just beat the hardest obstacle course ever. Sorry it took so long though. But thanks for the air support."

"Yay. And, always. You know that. Um, so what's the plan? You want me to spin back with a cube, or…?"

"Nah. They're all blind as fucking bats. Well, blind as bats who can see everything except us, and who don't know they're blind, I guess? Whatevs. No need. I'd rather not lose the minion infiltration progress-bar if we don't have to. Maybe pop us home for a few? Kinda feel like I need to shower and change. Grab food? Then we'll come back?"

"I'm on it."

Max folded them back to the penthouse. Kitchen. Chloe dropped the Yeti on the counter, cracked the fridge and grabbed a beer. Max hopped up on the counter. Chloe backed into her, leaning as she took a sip. Her skin was still cool to the touch.

Max hugged her from behind, legs wrapping around her, warming them up. Max whispered close, "I'm really proud of you, Chlo… I mean, I'm _always_ proud of you, but you know what I mean. You just infiltrated one of the most secret and secure military bases in the world. All by yourself. No alarms, no nothing. You're a _total_ stealth ninja badass, you know?"

Chloe turned her head a little. Hand on Max's knee, she leaned back again. Shrugged. "I know."

Max laughed, chin on her shoulder. "So glad it's not gonna go to your head…"

Chloe turned, kissed Max on the nose, pulled back, locked eyes playfully. "You gonna be ready for phase two? Or are you all sleepy like a lamb chop?"

Max shook her head. "I'm good if you are."

Chloe laughed. "A'aight. Shower. Change. Food. Bail?"

"Cool. Need help?"

"Need, or want?"

"Either."

Chloe took Max by the wrist, walking backward, pulled her off the countertop toward their shower.

Max followed. "Good answer."

* * *

 **Chloe** woke to the smell of waffles, bacon and coffee. _Morning. Shit. It was only supposed to be a quick nap after…_ Had to be Max clanking around in the kitchen. She sat up and stretched. No Emo, either.

She threw on a long flannel shirt, wandered out toward the kitchen, buttoning the bottom two. Leaned against a wall. _See how long it takes her to notice._

Max had her back to Chloe, hovering over a sizzling pan, vent whirring quietly overhead. Max with her bedhead, t-shirt and baggy PJ bottoms. Chloe leaned her head against the wall, watching Max make them breakfast. She'd already finished the waffles. Stacked on plates, still steaming. An assortment of cut fruit next to the whipped cream dispenser on the marble island. Along with glasses of OJ and a full pot of coffee.

Max let out a quiet little yell. "Hey! Ow! No, silly… come on. down. here…" She reached down with both hands, gently and carefully detached a climbing Emo from her leg, moving them both away from the stove, kissed him on the nose. He squeaked. She caught Chloe out of the corner of her eye as she bent to release him near his other food dish. Smiled warmly, "Hey. Morning, sneakypants. Here…warm beans." Max filled a coffee cup for Chloe.

"You're so my hero. This smells amazing. Could have woken me up though - I would have helped. Didn't have to do all of this by yourself."

"I never, ever feel that way." Max leaned forward into Chloe, kissed her neck, pulled back, held out the mug smartly. "I was awake anyway. Figured the smell would tease you out of bed." Chloe took the mug. Max did a jaunty little half-spin, returned to the Pan of Morning Happiness. Pulled out the last few strips of bacon, placing them between the top two folds of paper towel on the tray. Looked back over her shoulder, "Hungry?"

"Marvin."

Chloe took a stool on the living room side of the island, while Max put a pile of bacon on Chloe's plate. Sat next to her with her own.

Between bites, Chloe frowned, said, "Guess we didn't exactly make it back there last night."

Max sprayed some whipped cream on her waffles. Made a surprised-face as an air pocket splattered. She side-eyed Chloe, "That's totally your fault." Decorated the pile with fruit. Strawberries and banana, with tiny chunks of peach. "I was ready to go. You're the one who pulled us off mission."

"Come on dude. Not _totally_ my fault. All I did was pull you into the shower."

Max gave her that look. "Which…took us off mission. See? Totally your fault."

"I don't remember you protesting? And no - don't you fuckin' dare." Chloe eyed her over the rim of her cup.

"I wouldn't… Promises."

Chloe popped bacon into her mouth. "So…uh…daylight run?"

Max nodded, sipped juice. "More people around to ask questions. But easier to blend I guess?"

"Cool."

"We'll need uniforms after all, or?"

"Had some fab'd last night. You know, when it was clear you were gonna be a giant distraction and stuff."

"Me?!" Max laughed, feigning innocence.

Chloe nodded. "Uh-huh. Anyway… Uniforms are done. Downstairs. Makes most sense for us to go in as base cops I think. Security Forces. Some people call 'em SPs? Whatever. Officer ranks, but appropriate for our ages. … _You know what I mean._ Low, but technically above all of the enlisted peeps. As long as we look like we know what we're doing, they shouldn't fuck with us too much out walking around."

Max cut into another waffle. "K. Are we exploring, or do we have a destination in mind?"

Chloe leaned on her elbows, coffee cup in her hands. "Little of both. Mini-mes kept working after we left. Was able to go through a lot of the base systems overnight. Technical orders, operating procedures, training and security manuals, shit like that. Updated the base map, so we know what's where for the most part. Least who has responsibility for what areas. Some gaps though. I aim to aim for at least one of those, just to check it out. Oh, and I also came up to speed on current military law, regs, training, and expected behaviors and stuff. So I could either give you a debrief and you could rewind, or just follow my lead and we'll be good."

"Fun. Do I need to learn how to salute or anything?"

"Nah. We're going in as officers."

"Not known for saluting?"

"Widely known for being terrible at it."

"Ah. So we just throw on uniforms and blend with the natives then. That simple?"

"That's the plan. Open if you have other ideas. Either way, we're already in their systems. Local and national. We're official and everything. Service and salary histories, full background checks, TS-SCI security clearances, medical records, biometrics, assignment orders to Edwards, with their TDY records coding us for Groom Lake. Oh, and the minions found a few sample ID badges and security keycards in the dorms, so I mocked new ones for us that should pass. And open nearly any door. I mean, our bosses technically don't know who we are or have any memory of us if it comes to that. But we own several of their security systems, so…"

"Slacker. Not all of them?"

"It's not monolithic. There's overlap, but defense contractors run area security, Air Force Security Forces run base security, alongside defense contractors and the CIA, depending on where, exactly… They coordinate, but… It's all compartmented, even onsite. Some hangars, buildings or land areas are military only, some are contractor only… Some are off grid, off any networks. Deep black. Underground shit. They have security, but it's not tied to anything else. Makes sense I guess. Good news is that our access cards and codes will work for most areas. Bad news is that the uniforms alone will set off red flags in other places off the base that we probably wanna snoop out."

"So, we'll need costume changes…"

"It'll be just like role-play. But…you know…with more people and fewer naughty bits exposed…"

Max rolled her eyes, said sternly, "Eat your breakfast…"

* * *

 **Max** was pretty sure she looked ridiculous. She remembered playing dress-up together when they were kids. Raiding their parent's closets. A lifetime ago and…not that long ago. Looking at herself in the mirror now felt exactly the same.

Make-believe in clothes that didn't fit right. Only this time, it was combat boots, oversized baggy camouflage… _ABUs, Chloe said. Right. Lingo…_ Her hair was pinned up under her dark blue beret. Standard issue Beretta M9 pistol in a holster on her right leg. A dark blue bar on each collar designating her rank. Left arm patch with 'SF' in big dark letters.

Chloe went downstairs to one of the armories to grab herself a walking-rifle. She'd be back.

Max examined herself in the mirror again. _Nope. Lame._

Let out a breath. Closed her eyes.

Stretched this way then that to feel where it wasn't right. Muscle memory. Came rushing back. _Careful…_

With expert movements, she reached under the shirt to her hips, pulled the web-tabs at her waist to the rear until they were tight. Unfastened the two button tabs near the small of her back. Adjusted them one more in, pulled and folded, cinching her top tighter at the waist. Crouched. Untied, then re-laced her boots, leaving the top ring empty. She used the extra length to wrap around the top an extra time, tied them in the back, crossing three times instead of one before making the double-bow. Pulled the roll at the bottom of the pant legs over the top of her boots, adjusting the velcro stretchy band inside, covering the lace loops. She stood again, eyes still closed. Stretched. Better. Pulled down on the bottom of her shirt, adjusted a strap on her leg holster, pulling the top of her sidearm in a little tighter. Grabbed her sleeve ends from inside with her hands, she popped them out and down. Sleeves fell right above the knuckle of her thumb.

 _There._

That would be better.

She opened her eyes, looked at herself. Adjusted the peak of her beret. It _was_ better. Everything fit properly. _Razor fucking sharp._

She stared at her reflection. Lingered too long.

Suddenly a little too real.

Brought it back. That old melancholy pushed through her from behind like an ocean swell. She realized this was the first time she'd been back in a uniform…since…

Unwanted memories.

 _No._

 _Not now._

Along for the ride.

…since…

…the last uniform was stolen. Owner dead, hidden in a closet. Not exactly the same. Started out just as shapeless. She'd made it work for her then too. The first movement. On repeat. Became rote. In darkness. Desperation, exhaustion, crusty nostrils from the near-constant rewind-nosebleeds at the end of far too many extended photo jumps. Mid 22nd. Things were well and truly fucked. Rule of law varied by province. Changed hands so often, it was hard to keep track of which were safe.

They'd made a bad call. Maybe just bad luck. Got separated. Open air market in a bombed out city square in what used to be Colorado. So fast. A few minutes of inattention cost them so goddamn much…

 _So many tangled loops._

 _Twenty years to find her, another sixty to get her out before they could…_

 _Not. FUCKING. NOW._

Lost in the crash of the wave.

She stayed too long.

Swept up, tumbling inside.

Reliving.

Turning over old horrors, old stones that never changed.

 _Chloe. How many times… how many left behind?_

Old guilts resurfacing.

Never really went away…

 _Enough, goddammit._

 _Enough anger._

 _Enough fucking darkness._

 _I_ ** _don't_** _want to go that way._

A sound at the doorway brought her all the way back. Eyes refocusing, she saw movement past herself, through the mirror. Chloe came in with a rifle and a goofy smile.

Contrasts. _Shiny._

This…felt like play. Maybe that was the difference in the end. Maybe that's why she'd felt so much like a kid before. Part of her was much closer to childhood than any of that. Maybe it was simply because she could. There was no reason not to, really. She was back at the beginning of history. More powerful, more herself than she'd ever been. Same with Chloe. They were together, they had a plan, and they had so many people dedicated to helping them. All of them. They were gonna change everything that went wrong last time. _End all of the useless bullshit before it can ever start._

It wasn't that nothing could go wrong, so much as nothing could go wrong that couldn't be fixed.

That was the real difference now…

She took a breath.

It's what she said to herself before, floating in the middle of nowhere.

 _We're beyond permanent consequences here…_

 _Could that really, finally be true?_

 _That future's in the past. Sideways._

 _But no longer possible._

 _Another 'never again' that will never be…_

 _You wouldn't make the other choices anyway._

 _Doesn't matter._

 _She doesn't remember._

 _And none of the rest even exist yet…_

 _Calm._

 _She's okay. You're okay._

 _Breathe, Max._

 _You're…allowed to feel happy._

She knew all of that, of course. But reminding herself explicitly was a way to try to break her mood.

Direct herself.

The uniform thing caught her off guard was all.

 _Should have expected…_

Would take a little time.

She reached up, tilted her beret ever-so-slightly off kilter. _Doesn't need to be perfect._

Reverse-Chloe gave her a nod.

She was dressed identically. Same uniform, but with a single brown bar on each collar instead of blue. She carried it well. Looked legit. Strawberry blonde hair in a tight bun at the back of her head. Same sidearm, but carrying an M4 rifle on a sling now. The way she filled out the uniform, carried herself, she looked professional. It was part posture, part attitude. She played older somehow. Max was more 'confident, but relaxed' in a low key sort of way. Eagle-eyed though. Watching everything. Old habits.

They'd take Chloe seriously. On the base. Prolly assume that Max was fresh off the plane, under Chloe's wing. Suited her just fine…

"Why so serious, doll?" Chloe asked, looking at Max's screwed up expression in the mirror. "Still wanna go?"

Max relaxed, shook her head. Turned away. Toward her Chloe. Felt herself smile. A real one. "Sorry. Just fell into a little funk. Old wounds. Coming out of it. I'll…be okay."

Chloe, concerned but respectful, "Would a hug help?"

Max whispered, "I'd like that. A lot."

"Hey…" Without another word, Chloe tossed the rifle on the bed, wrapped her arms around Max, pulling her close.

Max held on tight. So incredibly thankful to have her.

So incredibly thankful for all of their second chances.

 _Sometimes more._

 _Keep paying it forward…_

 _All you can do._


	10. Dreamland

**Chloe** pushed away from the giant-ass transformer. The low frequency hum set her teeth on edge. Max dropped them off in an electrical substation on the outer edge of the base, facing the mountains to the northwest. Blind-spot. Coast was clear. No one saw them pop in.

Max caught up to her. "Good?"

"We're good." Chloe motioned toward the wide low structure a few hundred yards in front of them. "Wanna go hang out at the bar?"

"Seriously? Here? I…did not expect that."

"Yep. Staying secret is damn thirsty work. Peeps gotta eat, drink and…be merry I guess?"

"Any chance for Romulan Ale, Captain?"

"That's lieutenant, thank you very mulch. And no such luck. Lots of whiskey though."

"Corrected. And ew. Pass. Still seems super weird that they'd have a bar here is all."

"You're so cute. And what else are people gonna do at night?"

"Stars are pretty…"

Chloe looked at the cluster of buildings from all sides. There were no windows. Even the doors were solid. Just the rudimentary signs differentiating one entrance from another. Sam's, the place was called. Rec center of some sort. Bar, gym and pool were all inside their own linked buildings. Tennis outside, baseball diamond across the street.

Chloe steered them right, toward the baseball field. Aside from the tennis court off to their left, it was the only patch of green she could see from any vantage point. They took the next left, heading through several rows of long, low dorm buildings. Had a choice from there. North base hangars to the left, south base hangars to the right. They'd head north first.

The snow had mostly gone with the morning rains, tapering off to a dry gloom an hour before. There were a few people out and about. Some in uniform, others driving by in those white trucks. Not as crowded as she'd expected, but it was mid-morning on a Wednesday. Lots of people working away, out of sight.

Chloe pulled back to herself, glanced Maxward. Could tell she was feeling better. Didn't press. Whatever had her down this morning mostly faded before they left. If it was important, she'd share on her own. Sometimes a mood was just a mood. Hugs were usually good medicine.

"We're on camera now, right?" Max asked, interrupting Chloe's thoughts.

"Yeah. A few. Audio too. Sort of. Don't sweat it. I'm scrubbing us out in real-time. Only live people can see or hear us."

"Pwnership has its privileges? So…what would happen if I say, leaned in and kissed you right now?"

Chloe thought about it. "According to regs, I think I'd have to yell 'PDA' really loud and point awkwardly at you for like a minute or two. Then write you a citation or some shit?"

"That…doesn't sound right."

"No, it's true. For whatever reason - stay with me on this - military protocols weren't designed to celebrate displays of affection between people. Crazy right? If we ever build an army, I'm replacing salutes with hugs. Like, step one."

"That's not the worst idea I've heard today. But it might not be the best, either. Dunno. Like where do you draw the line? Who initiates? What if someone's not a hugger? Do you get in trouble? Who gets priority in a group? Or do you group hug? Do you extend the courtesy to diplomats? Couriers? The enemy? So much complicated."

"Damn Max. That's more thought than I gave it. Maybe you're right. I mean, I know at the most basic level, the correct response for me would be to kiss you back. But we'd really have to hope no one was watching with their own eyes. Although, I guess you could scrub that out if it came to it…"

"Least there's no windows anywhere, right? God, this is so weird. Like we're in some alternate universe of boring giants, where glass was never a thing."

Chloe chuckled.

Max looked around. "So, uh…where's our first stop, Lieutenant Price? Er. I mean… 'Carter'?" Max glanced down at Chloe's name tag, then down to her own.

"There's a hangar I wanna check out. Past these dorms, left side… Lieutenant O'Neill."

"So appropriate. And I'm really happy you made it with two 'L's…"

Chloe shrugged. "Pfft. Like that was even a question?"

They casually strode toward their destination. Boot-falls alternating between soft rubbery thuds and the occasional mini-splash. The ground on the base was a mix of concrete and hard packed desert dirt, pounded down over half a century of use. Pools of water everywhere. Scattered mirrors into an upside-down cloudy world.

Chloe gestured at one of the puddles, asked, "'Member when we were kids? …like I don't know, maybe four or five? You had that pink plastic rain jacket with the bear on it? Whenever that was…"

Max smiled, as much to herself as to acknowledge Chloe. "…after the rains?"

"Yeah. Puddle-stompers."

Max's face lit up as she quietly shouted, "Oh man - _Mukluks!_ "

Chloe laughed. "Mukluks. Shit. You're so funny. Forgot about that. Um. Okay, so remember that thing we used to do? Jumping into the puddles, trying to see if we could fall through to the other side?"

"Oh my god. That's right." Max face-palmed. "That was your dad, too. I was so fucking gullible."

"Heh. What was it? He said it was like falling into a hole. We'd just keeping going. Convinced me that it was my twin - the one on the other side - that saved me every time. That she'd always be there, jumping right where I jumped."

"…pressing back just as hard to keep you safe. I think I remember something like that."

"Anyway, used to imagine that it was more like fifty-fifty. Like how could _she_ know otherwise? So I used to think that those times where I had the rando urge to jump in a puddle, it was cause she was going to, and it was my turn to save her…"

"I really miss that. Being a kid I mean. PB&J without crust. Sunshine? Eating an orange and having that be like the best part of the day? Taking off into the forest to find pirate treasure and not coming home til after dark…"

Chloe stopped, big grin on her face. Motioned around them. "It hasn't _really_ changed all that much, has it? What part of this is any different?"

Max nodded. "We _are_ wearing silly hats again. You make a compelling argument, Price. Back to 4th grade. Pirate twins forever…"

"Funny how that worked out…" Chloe set off again. Looked at Max. "I always knew we'd do…interesting things."

"If we only knew…"

After they'd traveled a bit further, Chloe pushed her viewpoint outward. The buildings and hangars around them were all windowless. Painted that uniform light beige. Lots of space, with buildings spread out on an open grid. Like they could move a large plane almost anywhere without wingtips touching buildings at all. 'Cept through the narrows. Dorms. Probably the point. Some of the layout went back to the U-2 spy-plane, with its super-wide wingspan.

Chloe made note of the parking lot full of white cars, trucks and vans a few rows lots over. They were gonna need some wheels at some point. Easier to get around than walking, with zero danger of popping in where a person could see.

Max kept pace alongside. "So? What do you think? Is it everything you'd hoped and dreamed it would be after all this time?"

Chloe shrugged. "Knew we'd get here eventually. But I gotta be honest, dude. Kinda feels more like an airport than a spaceport."

Max pointed toward their destination. "What's in all those hangars? Can you see in?"

Chloe fought the urge to bring up her holo. "Planes mostly." Bots refreshed their interior scans. "Like that hangar there…" Chloe pointed ahead to their right. "Russian Sukhoi Su-27. Fighter. They have three different versions in there. Five planes. Maintain 'em. From what I could find, they bought a couple in Belarus in the late 90's. Recovered one of the others somewhere off the coast of Alaska and rebuilt it. Other two are a mystery."

"Dogfight practice?"

"Yeah, and training, intel. Understanding strength and weakness. As spies learn about modernization and tech upgrades, new software, whatever, they install duplicates on these, see if that changes things… Everything out of view of the public. I mean, it makes sense. You'd kindof expect that everyone was doing this with each other's shit, right?"

"Yeah. What else? Anything super weird or fun?"

"Same story on the other side. Chinese fighters. Plus, a homebuilt working copy of a prototype hypersonic ballistic missile design someone stole a few years back."

Max shook her head. "Dumb. Should we tell them? It's all a waste of money, I mean? Cause…not like any of that shit's gonna get used on people or anything."

"They'll get there. Meanwhile, I mean, it's not _totally_ useless."

"What? Deterrence? …still seems dumb. Gotta keep up, keep outdoing each other. Just one small fuckup… came close with the Russians a few times during the cold war, didn't they?"

"Yeah. But there's some people who think that it prevented a conventional war between the superpowers that should have happened between the 1960's and 80's."

"I'll show 'em superpowers…"

Chloe laughed, "Down Max." Got serious again. "David used to say… and I can't believe I'm reminiscing about shit David used to say… anyway, he used to say that 'an armed society is a polite society'. Whatever. He wasn't all that polite. But I guess the same is sorta true about nations. Well, a little while longer, anyway."

"Whole nother timeline. And I'm not so sure the thought's even correct. I mean, seems to me the places with the most guns have always had the most shootings. You know, cause they have all the guns to shoot at each other with? Not like the Middle East is a good example, but…"

Chloe, thinking back, "Yeah, but there's also a balance of power issue - it equalizes power between the physically strong and the weak. Allows someone who might otherwise be a victim to defend themselves against a stronger attacker. I know though. It invites challenge, and doesn't always go that way."

"Cause one weak person with a gun can take that out on a lot of innocent bystanders too. We've both experienced that in lots of ways, Chlo…"

"Fair point. Applies to people and countries I guess. Still feel safer with a gun than not though. Even if the rounds are mostly of the zappy variety these days. And on the topic of the Middle East - same kinda deal. Maybe they feel they need all those guns cause of multiple invasions and history and… yeah. More of same."

"Yeah… Complicated."

"Anyway, I think the politeness thing holds when everything's cool and everyone's being polite. Duh. But…second it goes south for real, everyone's got all their guns out, trying to figure who to shoot at and where to duck. Like the idea of mutually assured destruction - it may keep things from going bad for a while, maybe even forever - like that last 'are you sure' button. But it amplifies the dying exponentially if shit does go off the rails. And let's face it, crazy happens."

"Except…"

"I mean, yeah, nukes and stuff are pretty much a waste at this point anyway. You're right. We're here now. Hopefully the reasons for all the bullshit go away soon too. Meanwhile, I guess we _could_ be polite and leave them a note. Say something like 'Don't sweat it - we got this - no more wars - use the cash on something else' or some shit? With a smiley-face, for sure. Think it'll be enough?"

"If we can do little hearts to dot the 'I's too, I'm sure that'll close it. We can just retire after leaving it here, yeah. Totes."

Two airmen walked out of a door on their right. Maintenance building. Sergeant and an A1C. Right hands shot up to the brims of their caps in salute. She and Max returned them, kept walking. Chloe intentionally mangled her salute a little. Kept the hand too flat, and at slightly the wrong angle. She noticed that Max delivered hers perfectly. Form, delivery, everything. _Interesting._ She must have done some research after all?

Max said, "See? That might have been a little awk, right? Stopping to hug. I mean, what if everyone was in a hurry? I'd be all like 'It's cool. I don't know you, dudes.'"

"No, you're right. It was just an idea." Chloe watched from above as they walked. Added thoughtfully, "Maybe skipping instead of marching then?"

Max considered. "I see no problem with this."

"Parades would be _so_ much more awesome…"

Max nodded in agreement. "That's actually what the world desperately needs. Less marching. More skipping."

"However do we contain our genius in these tiny little heads, Max?"

"Well, that's not entirely true for you."

"Yeah, you either."

"Answered your own question then"

"That's cause I'm a genius."

Max laughed. "Think your humility circuit's fried."

"Oh my god - how can you say that? You know I'm like the _absolute_ most humble person that has ever fucking lived in the entire history of ever."

Max shook her head, "Uh-huh…"

Shifting for a moment, Chloe looked beyond the roofs and walls around them to the shapes inside. Toolboxes and tech. Parts. People. Ladders and benches. Storage shelving. Each crew had their own in-hangar wired network, but no links out. There was something in that hangar over there that looked like a space plane. In others, a few more Chinese and Russian aircraft. Fighters and bombers. Missiles. More than a few scaled testbeds. Mix of one-half and three-quarter sized test drones and planes. Long triangle shapes marked them as hypersonic. A shit-ton of drone forms. A few were huge. Bombers maybe? Or carrying more drones? Missiles carrying missiles? More than a few railguns, laser systems. Big enough for ships. Or jumbo jets. Maybe they'd scale them down later. Some craft did look a little like UFOs. No clearly defined front or back. A lot like the first gen ring-drones John's teams used to keep an eye on them when they first met. Hell, they might have even been prototyped here, now that she thought about it.

While snooping, she was pretty surprised to find a couple of large mechs sitting idle inside another support building, another mile ahead. Way beyond exo-suits. Actual fucking mechs. Two stories tall. Legs. Arms. Total crazypants designs. They weren't aircraft, but there was obviously plenty of space to test them out here, away from people. They weren't all that sophisticated. Basic materials. Armored. Hydraulics and motors. Guide-by-wire systems, but no neural controls she could see. Surprised they even bothered to make space for people in 'em. They could have done remote piloting just as easily, with no personnel risk. It wasn't clear what they were even for? They had some basic anti-personnel and anti-materiel weapons systems, and some anti-missile countermeasures bolted on. But there was no way they'd stand up to even minimal fire from tanks, planes or attack helicopters. They looked cool, for sure. Scary if you were a person on the ground, probably. So…maybe for urban patrols? But the armor was marginal for RPGs, even. Chloe made herself a note to dig in a bit further later. _Curious._

They finally reached the first small hangar she wanted a peek into. Scans showed it was completely empty. Like nothing at all. No tools, no wires. Just empty space between the walls. Wasn't quite sure she believed it. Maybe they had some amazing new stealth design? Chloe Prime didn't follow this stuff in total detail first go-round, but she remembered a few optical stealth reveals later in the 21st.

She confirmed that no potential witnesses had line of sight to the two of them outside the hangar. Tried the door. Locked. No prints on the keypad she could use to guess at the combo. No card reader or other biometrics tech. She could force the door, but that was sure to set off alarms.

She gestured. "Maxi-moo? Babe? Would you mind?"

Max burst out laughing. "W-what?! _Maxi-moo_? I…I just can't even…" She vanished. Chloe heard laughter on the other side of the door before it opened from within.

Chloe slid in quickly, closing the door behind her. No alarms, no surveillance tech.

"…such a dork sometimes…" Max said from the darkness.

"Still your dork though."

Light leaks came in around the door, and around the frame of the sliding door that took up most of the front wall. Chloe flipped the switch for Max. The lights overhead clicked and flickered to life, throwing the room into a sickly yellow-green. Large empty hangar. No breaks, seams, partitions, nothing. Only echoes. And a four-foot wide hole in the concrete near the back corner. Dropped a couple of inches into dirt. Nothing down there she could see. She carefully walked across the space, just to be sure there wasn't an invisible plane or anything.

Nope.

Empty.

 _Huh._

Max shrugged at her.

Chloe, after a brief pause, "When you said we might not find anything… I didn't think to take you quite this literally."

Max shrugged again. "Would make a pretty cool loft space though. Think it's for lease?"

"Needs some windows I think. More natural light? Little stuffy. Maybe unleash a Roomba or twenty?"

"You're so spoiled. We could do projections from outside onto the inside walls. Just something to give the feel of outside, open it up?"

Chloe nodded. "Could work. Or we could, I don't know, open the giant sliding front wall?" Waved her arms to the front.

"Chances of being discovered may go up slightly."

"Only slightly. Life is risk. Chicken?"

Max spun in place. "Think they'd turn a blind eye if we set up a little chill-out space in here? Like, brought in a Zamboni, iced the floor, some white couches and maybe a DJ with some fat speakers?" Max pointed to various areas in the hangar.

"Charge a few bucks…summertime. They might actually dig it. Could be too over the top though."

After a pause, Max nodded, said, "Lemonade."

"Hmm?"

"Lemonade."

Chloe looked around, nothing to see. Squinted. "Elaborate?"

"We move in. Open the wall, set up a gigantic stand. I'm talking like _huge_." Max raised stretched her arms out all the way. "Sell ten gallon glasses of lemonade. Five bucks. Whatever. Still make a killing in the summer. Bet we'd learn a bunch too, just by listening. The Lemonade Stand UFO Spy Ring…"

Chloe thought for a moment, laughed. "There's always money in the lemonade stand? _Haha!_ I kinda wanna do this. They'd have to drag them away though. The glasses. Ten gallons is pretty heavy. Or maybe we sell skateboards to put the drinks on? Or like, little wheels on the bottoms of the cups? What happens when they try to stop us? I mean, it would be a really tough one for them to explain away. For sure. Can you imagine? Especially if we resisted and they had to call in for more help? Commanders get called back to the Pentagon. Security contractors grilled. Congress gets involved… Closed door sessions…"

Max giggled, adopted a terrible but enthusiastic southern drawl, "Right? 'So explain again what happened, General? Two teenage girls bypassed all your sophisticated world class security systems, broke into a top secret hangar, and…it says here in your report, and I quote, 'they started a giant lemonade stand?'"

Chloe snickered, replied in a slow, deep faux microphone voice, "Um, yes sir. That is correct."

"When you say 'giant', am I to understand that the stand itself was of significant scale? Or was that the lemons?"

"Um, that would be both, sir."

Max giggled, got serious again, continued. "So thinking back to the incident…would you still agree with the other assessments that it was good?"

Chloe deadpanned, "Um. Our security is the absolute best in the world, congressman. We don't know…"

"No - no - the lemonade. Was the _lemonade_ good?"

They both started laughing.

Stopped. Fought to contain themselves.

Maybe it was their goofy-ass voices echoing around the hangar, maybe it was the butchered lines from a classic comedy series that wouldn't be made for another twenty years. Maybe it was the faces they made while playing their parts, or simply watching each other try so hard not to laugh. But what began as a minor case of the giggles quickly devolved.

First Chloe, then Max, they started again. Kept going.

In waves, long after they should have stopped for good.

Just about the time one of them would recover, they'd look at each other, burst out laughing, and it would start up all over again.

Max finally said, between breaths, "Oh my god…so…stupid."

"We really are." Chloe agreed, shaking her head, near tears.

They looked at each other, fought the giggles, started up again…

"I mean… it's not…even funny!" Max gasped, face red.

"Nope. Not at all… fuck I can't breathe…"

"God - why…are we…laughing?"

Chloe, doubled over, "It's so not funny…hehe…that it's circled all the way around to funny again? _Heh._ I don't know. It's…something in the air?"

Max laughed, "Definitely in the air!"

"Gas maybe?"

"No - just our regular old giant cloud of stupid. _Haha!_ " Max simmered down, "Oh god. Air. Um… _Hehe_. But here we are. In Area fucking 51. I mean, it's kindof funny. We could really do it. Performance art? Documentary? God, just their faces when base security rolled up…"

"So stupid… _stop. Please…_ "

" _Hehe._ What is wrong with us? We are so dumb. _hahaha!_ "

"Oh man. _Heh!_ Is it…is it wrong that I'm kinda thirsty now?" Chloe snorted.

Max, crying, "No. But I… _haha_ …I _hehe_ … I have to pee… _ahahahahaha!_ "

"Oh, jeesus - just stahp! Fuck, just…Max stop! _hahahaha_ "

"Oh look… there's a…there's a hole over in the corner… _hahahaa!_ "

They were both out of air, faces red, doubled over, laughing so hard they were coughing…

* * *

 **Max** aged the door forward until it collapsed. Stepped over the pile of rusted dust at the threshold, then rewound everything back. Opened the door for Chloe.

"Three's a charm?" Max said cheerfully, bowing as Chloe stepped in.

"Crap." Chloe flipped on the lights.

After recovering from their ridiculous giggle-attack in the first hangar, they'd made their way to a support building that Chloe wanted to check out. She said bot-scans were being scrambled. Turns out, the room was filled with massive rolls of bubble wrap, thermo-plastics and other sorts of large format packing and shipping materials. The combination of curved bubbles, variable layers of transparency and sheer quantities of bubble wrap and reflective sheeting confused the bot optics. Nothing ominous.

Disappointed, Chloe led them here.

Another empty hangar, apparently. Last question mark on the north side of the base.

Small. A hundred feet or so across, it was the same inside as the first. Well, almost. No hole in the concrete, for starters.

Chloe stopped, grabbed Max's arm reflexively as she stared at the opposite wall. "Holy shit."

"What?" Max squinted in the half-light but couldn't see anything unusual. Looked back to Chloe, then the wall. Just regular old boring hangar innards.

Chloe started toward the other side, clicked her flashlight at the wall, then off again. "Above the intercom thingie? You don't… no, course not. Oh shit… nevermind."

Max could sorta make out something stuck to the wall as they got closer. Too many lights out to be sure. "What's up? What do you see?"

Chloe stopped a dozen feet from the wall. Gestured from one side to the other with a flashlight, laughing. "The whole fucking thing is covered with writing. A giant equation. I mean that in both senses, by the way. And a legend with values for some of the variables… The actual fuck."

"Why can't I see it? What does it mean?"

"It's…uh… damn. That's kindof genius. Sorry - nothing for you to see. I would have missed it too if it weren't for the roach-dudes chillin' in opposite corners back there playing interferometer… This was meant for me, Max. Fuck. Has to be. I'm probably the only one who can read it. There's something… it's not written on the wall exactly. I can't describe it. Um… Okay - here - visible light usually bounces off of shit, then some of that stabs you right in the eye. Bang. Electrical impulses, blah blah blah, you've got vision. But here…something is taking the photons in - but reflecting some back as low energy radio. Takes a retina surface the size of the back wall and a few seconds of sampling to resolve it into anything more than fuzz."

"Wait - so there's a transmitter or something in that box? Why haven't they picked it up on the base?"

"No - it's uh, not that at all. And there's no transmitter exactly. Like I'm seeing this as actual writing on the wall. But in radio, not colors or shades of light and dark. It's all EM in the end, but some is…downshifted. The lines of the figures themselves are reflecting back radio… It's simple - I don't know if it's ink or something in the paint or what…nanoscale structures maybe… Anyway, it's converting the wavelength. That's it. Light hits it at high frequency, it reflects a small portion back much lower. Probably not powerful enough to spread much beyond the walls. Lights out, nothing at all. Damn."

"Okay - so…I'll be the one to say it. That's kinda weird. _Right?_ " Max raised her eyebrows, eyes questioning.

Chloe smirked, side-eyed Max, "Yeah, but…come on…"

Max shrugged. "True dat. What's it mean?"

"Uh…result of the equation is 1114380399."

Max raised her arms. "That's it?"

"Yeah." Chloe continued to stare at the visibly blank wall.

Max did some mental dashing. "So…it's a phone number."

"Not necessarily. Just…a number."

"Should we maybe punch it into that?" Max pointed to the wall-mounted metal box to their left. An old-school numeric keypad mounted under a five-inch tube screen. Eye-level. "See what happens?"

"Sure?" Chloe slid over, quickly punched in the code. "What could go wrong?"

Max sighed. "Had to say it…"

She heard a series of mechanical clicks, a tone, then the black and white screen hummed to life. On it, another hangar like this one, only with a couple of jet engines torn down in the background. A man in a jumpsuit walked up from the side. Sunglasses pushed up into his dark messy hair, smoking. He saw them, smiled big, "Hiya boss!"

Max and Chloe looked at each other, back to the screen. Chloe said "I'm sorry - who are you? You know us."

The man paused, his smile withdrew. He finally tossed his cigarette, let out a breath, ran his hand through his hair. Serious, studying them. "I see… Sorry. You said this might happen. Not important who I am. But I've been asked to tell you that you need to head south."

"Asked by whom? You're somewhere here on base, aren't you?" asked Max.

"By you. I'm sorry, that's…all I can say right now. I should go. Good luck. We're all counting on you."

Max and Chloe both said, "Wait…" as the screen went black.

"Fuck." said Chloe, punching in the number again. Nothing. No clicks, no sounds.

"Can you see where he is?"

"Nothing. I don't see him at all. I don't know Max…"

"That's a closed circuit kindof dealie, right? Are there wires we can follow or anything? He's gotta be close!" Max looked on all sides of the box. Nothing coming out. No inner-wall in these hangars, so nothing should be hidden. Might sprout out the other side, outside?

Chloe found latch on the side of the box, hinged it open. "The fuck?" She pointed for Max. "One wire for power, one for signal."

Max looked where Chloe held the light. Both wires ended, cut an inch past their internal connections. Just ended. Nothing further, nothing in the wall behind.

"My Scooby sense is tingling." said Chloe.

"Spidey sense?"

"Kinda like that, but I also want a snack. Fuck, Max." Chloe laughed, confused. "What the hell?"

Max, ascii shrugging, "For reals. What was that?"

"I don't know. But when an anonymous man on a small television screen tells you to do something…"

"Sooooo… south?"

"Nothing more up here anyway. There's a giant-ass hangar off the southern tip of the runway we should hit. Lots of stuff in there. And a back corner I can't resolve. That's south I guess?"

"K."

"We should score some wheels too. Think it's gonna be a long day."

As they headed back for the door to outside, Max said, "I'm glad that wasn't weird at all. I was a little worried when you started reading invisible radio equations off the inside wall of a big empty hangar at a secret UFO base…"

Chloe ignored her. "Bet everyone at HQ is eating lunch right now… Wanna stop at the base chow hall after this? It's on the way?"

* * *

 **Max** rolled her window down, flopped her arm out over the edge. Fought the overwhelming urge to make air-dolphins with her hand. Wasn't sure it would help with the whole 'blending in' thing. They weren't really going fast enough for her to ride the wind, but that old itch was still there.

They'd 'liberated' their white truck from a large parking lot full of very similar white trucks and vans back at the base. Nobody'd miss it. Base vehicles were all over the place.

Max offered to fold or fly them over the hill, but Chloe wanted to drive. At least to the turnaround halfway up the lakebed on the other side. She wanted to see it all from ground level with her own eyes. Drive-by. Make sure. Assuming it was nothing, they'd head back home for a quick costume change before heading to the next site.

"Shit!" Chloe suddenly jerked the wheel to the left, then the right, narrowly avoiding a wide watery pothole. Max was buckled in, but almost spilled her water. Looked down to see Chloe's arm held out between Max and the dashboard. _Aww._ She steered them further to the right to let an oncoming truck pass by on the left. Guys inside eyeballed them as they went by. But went by.

Road wasn't remotely smooth after the runoff, and the mud puddles weren't helping. They weren't getting stuck or anything - just made it rough. The occasional loose rock clanked around the wheel wells as they drove south, away from the airbase.

The remaining hangar they'd broken into on the south side proved unremarkable. Just one defense contractor with a lot of technicians, test planes and drones under one roof. Some disused, stored, others under repair. Base-wide, it was a big 'nada'. Other than their mystery hangar experience, anyway...

What they mostly found was a busy joint-test facility working with secret experimental - but conventional - aircraft designs. Nothing more. Chloe's scans of the rest showed stuff that was interesting, surprising even, but not remotely alien. No mystery propulsion systems. No buildings with weird doorknobs or other signs of possible non-human presence. Not that either of them really expected that.

Chloe had her bots do a double-check for any other mystery writing in odd spectra, but…zip.

Still, the journey was fun for the most part. Chloe wanted to come back another night. Hit the bar. Break into their pool. _Always with the splishing…_ They'd already done all the hard parts. Well, Chloe had. Infiltrating base systems, creating military records and IDs. They could come back any time they wanted. They were legit. Or rather, Lieutenants Carter and O'Neill were.

As for the rumored S4 facility further south… Chloe's bots were a bust on anything approaching a secret hangar at the eastern edge of Papoose Lake. The roads heading that way weren't heavily traveled, there were no signs of any workforce going in or out. Vehicle GPS tracking histories she'd found in the main security servers weren't painting the area as any kind of traffic magnet. No indications of industrial-scale activity anywhere on the southwestern side of Papoose Mountain. Almost completely undisturbed past the turnaround at the end of the old dirt patrol road.

Chloe confirmed that land ownership records had it squarely under the Department of Energy, and the whole section of the mountain, along with much of the territory to the west, had been classed as wildlife preserve. Seismic wasn't showing her anything either. Not even shadows where something might have been filled in.

After a half hour of nonsense, sing-a-longs and spine-rattling, they reached the turnaround, looping around a teardrop shaped pool of standing water. Chloe stopped the truck, shut off the engine. Quiet. "Nope."

The rain started up again. Fat drops.

Max rolled up her window. "Alright, love. What do you think it means? Why was S4 scribbled in the old notes from the 1950's? And why was that the one thing Margaret was able to pull from Andersen's head? And BT-dubs, WTF Go-south-guy?"

"Dunno. Fuck. Possible Andersen was just trolling us. I don't know. Either S4 mention in isolation would have stayed at nothing probably. The two together seemed to mean something, but… I don't know, honestly. We had a scribble and a thought. We…I…assumed that it validated some of the original Area 51 rumors - a nearby test facility for UFOs. But…there's only ever been one eyewitness who referenced S4 directly. Same dude who went public to the news-peeps that Area 51 even existed - back in the late 1980's. But maybe it's not where he said it was. I mean, he was right about Area 51, but maybe the rest was BS? Hive mind is divided."

"So we looked where the _Internet_ said to look, and we didn't find anything? Are we sure that's conclusive? Internet, etc.?" Max made that face.

"We're parked where the dude himself said it was. Obviously nothing's here. Same thing I guess, but…"

"Well… Either he was telling the truth, or he's wrong about the details, or he's lying. You're my partner in corkboard - work it back, Chlo."

"Yeah, okay." The air above Chloe's left arm flickered a bright amber as her holo interface came back to life. She projected a 3-d topographical area map into the space between them, started explaining with the data overlays while she rotated and zoomed. "If he's telling the truth, and he's right about where it was, it means they closed up shop and maybe filled it in? I don't see any evidence of that here. Look - nothing. And I'm not seeing any tunnels or anything in seismic data. Well - I guess it could also mean that it's so well hidden that it's really for real not detectable. Like at fucking all. But even here, there's no traffic… I mean, look outside. We'd see tracks, footsteps, disruptions…something. That leaves going through the mountain, and I'm just not seeing tunnels or any of that underground either."

Max turned, "For what it's worth, I'm not sensing any voids or anything over there. But how hard would it be for you to mask the existence of underground structures? If you were designing from scratch?"

"From you? Probably impossible. You're feeling indirectly, but not measuring with energy through a medium. But…from anyone else? Yeah, no… I could do it for sure. Same principal as optical invisibility. Just need to move energy around all of the internals without altering any of it along the way. But…that's me. But…for normals working with 1950's tech and engineering? Fuck no. Seismic isn't from any one direction. It's all over the earth, plus reflections, deflections through rock layers and the mantle… No, I'm probably the only one who could right now. It's too specific. But, I mean, even if they could somehow do it - say aliens or some other beyond advanced bullshit — it's too much trouble to go through for an edge detection case when they could just, you know, use the base at Area-51? It's right there, and it's already hella fuckin' secure. Ya know…mostly."

"The return of 'hella'…" Max smiled, reached into a pocket and offered a cheese stick to Chloe. "Okay, so what if 80's dude was telling the truth, but he got the location wrong? Just got turned around somehow, whatevs?"

Chloe took the cheese. Sliced open the wrapper. Painted a blue line along the path they just took. "If he went there every day like he said, that seems super stupid. He talked about a bus they rode for years. Windows were blacked out, but, it's the same fuckin' road we just took. Not a lot of roundabouts. Takes as long as it takes. How lost could he get? Maybe if he weren't paying any attention - no…I just…doesn't seem plausible. He seemed like a moderately sharp-ish dude."

Max sipped at her water. Raindrops outside were falling closer together. "Okay, so maybe he's wrong, but not lying. Believes what he's saying, but - he was lied to, or what he thinks is true isn't right for some reason. We know thoughts and memories can be manipulated."

Chloe paused, "That's sounding more like our evil mystery crew… but why let him go public at all? Why have him expose the real Area-51 base? Why get people asking questions?"

"Misdirection?"

"Yeah, I mean, that makes sense in a psyops sort of way - but why misdirect about something literally no one knew about back then? Unless the exposure was their goal? But why would the designation he made up link with our mystery paper and Andersen's brain-fart in a super relevant way? You know I'm a huge fan of coincidence, but that's three separate references to the same _something,_ right?… And where the fuck did the generator design come from then?"

Max looked off to the hillside. "So the lying option is obvious I guess. If he's lying, none of it's real, and the 'S4' on a 1950's paper dealing with anti-grav propulsion wouldn't jive. Andersen could still have heard it from somewhere in any scenario - hell, he could have scribbled in the margins of the docs for all we know, right? Could it be that simple?"

"No - the scribbles were dated to within a year or two of the page it was on. Ink. 50's. James wasn't even a wriggler yet."

"Ew. And that's…that's fucking irritating." Max leaned her head back, visualizing the moving parts. "We're missing a piece. Gotta be. Wish I had a real giant cork-board right about now."

The holo space between them vanished, along with Chloe's interface. "Feels like. And when we get back, we'll put the gang on it. Like, the thing that makes the most sense to me is that there's a real location called S4, William Andersen was involved in some way, and whatever they were doing there was linked to his device."

"Right. And then 80's dude outs Area 51…"

Chloe interrupted, "Which turned out to be true…"

"…and he drops S4 at the same time, putting it a stone's throw away…"

"…which may be false…"

Max continued, "…adding up to an explosive truth carrying along a lie for the ride?"

"…probably without him even knowing it."

Max turned back to Chloe. "Okay - so let's say that's right. There is a place. The location is wrong. Why? And what do we do about it?"

"Yeah - I have no fucking clue, dude. That's where it breaks down for me. Then there's the hidden message only I could see, and cryptic engine repair guy who kinda sorta maybe knows us, enough to call us 'boss', unless he calls everyone 'boss', cause people do that, right? But he still hangs up after talking through wires that don't fucking exist… We _are_ fucking south." Chloe let out a breath. "Without more pieces, that feels like a global snipe hunt. S4 could be fuckin' anywhere."

"Square one?"

"Maybe not 'one' exactly." Chloe softened. The blue rings of her eyes glowed brightly for a second. "Let's be open to the possibility that the universe will answer all of our questions - in the fullness of time."

Max did a double-take. "Who are you, and what have you done with my Chloe?"

Chloe laughed. "Couldn't resist. But that look… priceless."

"I'll 'priceless' you. I…I don't even know what that means."

"Let's just head back, change. We have one more stop, anyway. Maybe get lucky. Shut it, perv. It's even further south, so…?"

Max asked, "K. Let's not go too far south, though. I like penguins, but Antarctica seems…chilly…"

"…says the supergirl who can make time blankets."

"Whatever. Hey - so in all your digi-minion-wanderings, they find any references at all? To our Andersens, any Them-sign? Anything?"

"I totally want to say 'Them-sign the likes of which even…' You know, never-mind. Big fat 'nope'. But…it's the way it's all put together here too. The stuff I was able to get to last night was mostly about the base itself. Administrative networks. Security. But most things aren't on the same network here. Or any network in some cases. Area-51 is a little like a hacker space, you know? The base provides the location and the french-fries, and a consortium of nine defense contractors shows up with their own people, laptops and planes and shit. Do what they need to, and take the data back when they leave. There's exceptions, like the ongoing military training, drone ops, operational flights, whatever. Saw that stuff. But the contractors have their own shit compartmented. CIA too. I'm working on it, but it's distributed back at their own HQs. It's a focus now. Might know more tonight or tomorrow. But I'm afraid it might just be more data for the future ref pile, and not much in the way of concrete insight…"

"Just checking."

"I know. I'm hoping there's something we can find after we change. Something off-network, local archive, anything. I'm really hoping TV-south-guy isn't a fucking figment. But… I've raised the replication limit on our little scouts, so we should eventually find everything around here, and have eyes on anything new moving forward. Answers, if there are any to be had. We should also think about planting a new core below the mountain. For giggles, if nothing else."

"Yeah - remind me before we head home for good. I'll make you a space"

"Coolio."

* * *

 **Max** put them inside the perimeter, out of sight of the main entry gate. Site-6. A single long paved airstrip. A perfect circle of fencing a third of a mile in diameter. A few oddly shaped bright white hangars above ground, along with more typical buildings and small trailers around them.

Chloe's ant-bots confirmed there was more to the site down below, but they'd only managed to travel a couple of layers down before hitting figurative walls. Possibly actual walls too. By Max's reckoning, it went down six floors, maybe as far as eight. And something went out and down under the lakebed in a line - off-axis to the runway, but nearly as long. Chloe said the current cover story for the facility was drone and sensor testing. Might have been something else in the past. They'd check it out either way.

They were outside the Area-51 exclusion zone completely. This was still a restricted area, but only lightly and politely patrolled. Mostly civilian workers - government and defense contractors. Lots of personal vehicles in and out. Paved roads connected back to public highways to the south. Gated, but… They weren't actually all that far from home.

This area was part of the sprawling Nevada National Security Site - formerly the Nuclear Test Site - where hundreds of atom bombs were tested in the old days. Maps of the area showed a ton of weird unmarked buildings, artificial towns, a lot of excavation, cratered valleys and dirt airstrips in all directions. Airspace here was open to Nellis pilots for training flights and bombing runs. It seemed an unlikely place to hide or test exotic aircraft, especially when Groom Lake was so much more tightly controlled. But that's precisely why Chloe thought they should check it out.

Max studied the buildings. Found the entrance. Chloe adjusted her white lab coat before leaning around to face Max. Straightened her lanyard affectionately.

Max pushed at her fake glasses. They weren't fitting right on her nose. Was bugging her a little. "Shall we?" Max held a clipboard to her chest. White lab coat, ponytail, blocky nerd-glasses.

Chloe crossed her eyes. "Hot." Shook her head, laughing a little. "After you."

Max headed for the people-door to the right side of the large hangar door.

Chloe trailed behind. "No one around. I've got a few thermals in the trailers over there. Drone crews. Bout it. Twenty cars in the parking lot. We're good. Just…you know…fly casual."

Max swiped her lanyard past the reader. LED went from red to green with a low beep. She heard a metallic click as the door unlatched. It opened to a clean, tidy, air conditioned space that looked more like a tech lab than a hangar. Polished floors, large screens on the walls. A grey drone the size and shape of a small crop-duster slept in the center, dwarfed by the room. Toolboxes to one side, a small panel open in the nose. A few technicians leaned against a bench on the other side, monitoring something.

Max continued along the right wall past the bins and workbenches, heading for the door to the central office space that separated this hangar from the much larger one on the other side. Elevator at one end of the office would lead down. She pushed through the heavy door. Grey-blue industrial carpet, overhead lights, white workstations with monitors - and about ten people working away at whatever it was they were working away at.

Max kept her head down, walked purposefully down the center aisle toward the elevator door on the far side. Glanced at her clipboard once.

Halfway down, she nearly collided with a man as he abruptly rose from his workstation. "Sorry." she said. Went to move around him, but he blocked their way. She noticed others watching out of the corner of her eye. A couple of them stood up. _Busted._

The man was in his early thirties, a little overweight, glasses, rebel sigil from Star Wars emblazoned on his shirt. "No, no - I'm sorry. My fault. But you guys should probably come with me. Director will want to see you, now that you're…here."

"S'cuse me?" said Chloe.

"It's okay Ms. Price. We've been expecting you for a while now. We didn't know _exactly_ when, but…"

Max and Chloe looked at each other. Back to him.

He added, "You're nowhere near as anonymous as you might think. I mean…even if we didn't already work for you, bunch of science and aerospace nerds like us, hanging out in the middle of the desert playing with toy robots? Of course we'd know you both by sight."

Max wasn't sure she felt as entirely surprised as she probably should, but she wanted clarification. TV-Guy had called them 'boss' too. They were definitely south of Area-51. It made a certain sort of sense. "Yeah, if you wouldn't mind escorting. I think it would be best if we spoke with the director."

He headed toward the elevator. Turning, walking backwards, "Great. Um, huge fan, by the way. I'm sure you guys get that a lot. But… Like _really_ , you know?" His eyes got bigger for a sec as he said it.

Max could see the sentiment echoed in the others in the room. Their expressions similar to first-day newbs back at HQ. This wasn't the time or place for the million questions they both probably had. Max assumed that these workers, despite their apparent enthusiasm, weren't real insiders of MCCP yet. Had to watch how much they gave away. Least until they learned more.

 _Need to get Sophie down here._

 _Give everybody a once-over._

 _Maybe figure out what the fuck?_

 _Did future-me come back and do all of this when I was sleeping? Why? When? How?_

 _This isn't the kind of thing you do in an afternoon… And I'm pretty sure Chloe would have noticed. She seems just as surprised as I am…_

 _Why didn't I leave me a note or something? Why keep this under the radar? And why break that now?_

 _If all of this is actually true, I mean…_

She realized The Rebel was still walking backwards, waiting for a response. "Sorry… Yeah, we do get that a lot, but…we're all just people, right? Look forward to catching up with you all later." Max said to the rest as they continued on to the elevator.

Chloe kept quiet, but Max could practically hear her brain spinning. _Flying casual, indeed._

"I'm Dave, by the way. We're a…pretty tight knit bunch here." After a quiet pause, "Yep-p. Many hats as they say." He laughed quietly to himself as he hit the button. "So um…it's okay if you don't want to answer… I mean, of course it's okay - who am I to tell you it's okay or not… I'm talking too much. But that new mystery heavy everyone's so excited about - out at L2… that's us? right? Or…I guess, you guys, or corporate or whatever?"

Chloe rolled her eyes, shrugged noncommittally. He nodded. Seemed satisfied.

The elevator dropped three floors before slowing. Doors opened to a wide bright hallway. There were a variety of large pictures on the walls between the doors. Drone models, aerial photos, a few team pictures. At the end of the hall, a T intersection leading off to the left and right.

"Just here, on the right." Dave took them through an open door into a spacious office that looked like it had been last decorated in the 1960's. Fresh wood paneling, Danish modern furniture, comfortable artwork on the walls, messy desk, fake window behind, passing artificial light.

A man somewhere in his mid-sixties, fit, white hair and beard, sat behind the desk. He looked up from his monitor. "Thank you Dave. Susan called ahead, said you were bringing them down."

"Cool. I'll be upstairs if you need anything."

"Thanks again. We'll be fine." He waited.

Dave walked out backward, leaving Max and Chloe in the man's office. Once they were alone, he stood, all formality gone. Eyes smiling, face in wonder. After taking them in, he finally said, "My god. Look at you two. Haven't changed _at all._ "

Max cleared her throat. "So I'm Max, and this is Chloe, but…you already knew that?"

He chuckled. "Of course. Sorry guys. I know I'm staring. It's so good to see you again. Been a very long time." His voice trailed off. "…well, outside recent media coverage anyway…would have been, what, early 1980's, right?"

Chloe looked to Max. Back to the man. "Wait - what the what?" Chloe turned, side-whispered behind her hand, "Max, that's before you were born. You can't…actually…do that, can you?"

Max didn't want to answer. Mixed company. And it wasn't time. Chloe was better at blocking telepathic intrusions, but she still wasn't quite at 100%. Max was still the only one who knew for now. _In a manner of speaking. Or, is it 'a manner of thinking'?_

Without missing a beat, she shrugged awkwardly. "Not yet." _Least, not yet by myself… Although, technically, it's still by myself I guess, but…_ She ended lamely, "It's…complicated…" Max turned to the man, "Um. Can you maybe bring us up to speed a little? Pretend we're lost?"

He paused. "I'm sorry Max - this is a bit nostalgic, seeing you guys like this. But, I guess I never really knew for sure. If or when you'd ever come back, I mean. Until a couple of years ago. But now… This is, uh…amazeballs - like you used to say."

Max squinched. "Wait - who used to say?"

"Chloe mostly. But I did catch you once or twice." He smiled.

Max nodded, said very slowly, "Chloe was there too. With us, in the 1980's."

"Please. You two are inseparable. Sorry - yeah, you don't recognize me… Years have taken their toll, I'm afraid. It's me. Nelson. We were friends, partners? For years. It was always yours, of course, but I watched over it for you after you left. Or is that not…"

Chloe stepped in. "I'm gonna need you to start at the beginning. Please? Who are you?"

He hesitated, deflated a bit. "I see… I apologize, Chloe. I didn't occur to me that it would all be backwards for you two. Okay, uh, my name is Nelson Mitchell."

"Chlo - we haven't met him. Not yet."

"Yeah, I was gettin' that vibe. Cause, you know, I'm all smart and junk…"

He smiled. "I really have missed you two…"

"Okay, Nelson, um - it's nice to meet you. Bear with us? Let's start with basics. What is this place?"

"101 then. This is a high security R&D and test facility for Lombard Aerospace. We…you…have other locations. I'm the director, but the company is yours. I was here at the beginning, but you're the original founders - none of the rank and file know that for obvious reasons - but it's what's true. It's currently under a holding company, Lombard Partners - which everyone here knows as an undisclosed subsidiary acquisition of MCCP. But it's five minutes of paperwork for that to be true in a legal sense."

Max added, 'Founded…in the 1980's…"

"Yes. That's correct. And before your head goes in that direction, no, we've never been involved in offensive weapons systems. You'd never have it. And I wouldn't either. Chloe and I didn't always agree on everything, but that was one thing we all held in common. Anyway, before you left, you set in motion our two primary goals. The first and only public mission - well, classified, obfuscated, but you understand what I mean - was to develop and test remote sensing technologies, with special emphasis on chemical, nuclear or other radiological threats. And if we had time and resources, a means of detecting biological weapons at various stages - from development to dispersion."

Chloe piped in. "Sniffer tech?"

"As you say. But a bit less pedestrian. Our R&D has been focused almost exclusively on active technologies for most of our history. Company's nearly thirty-five years old now." He gave a little shrug. "Anyway, active - throwing something energetic out and seeing what comes back, rather than waiting for the wind or the odd gamma particle to hit a passive monitoring surface."

"Interesting.' said Chloe. "How's that going?"

"You were always pushing the idea that people are mostly clever. So of course we solved all of that ten, fifteen years ago. Since, it's been about making everything smaller. Fit into a smartphone case, for example… And ongoing sales and support. We're profitable. Been selling to governments and international bodies for much of that time. Some of the lower tech devices we sell in bulk to DHS. Ports, cities, interstates, we're part of the first line of radiological detection. It's stopped several attacks that we know of, doubtless more we don't. Internationally, we've been helpful in uncovering violations of international law, treaty violations, that sort of thing…"

Chloe interrupted, "Wait - go back. Solved? So you could detect a bio-sealed canister carrying a weaponized virus at a distance?"

"Yes. You have the order of the question correct as well. We're detecting the device in that case, not the biological agents themselves. Sealed, remember. The software was half the battle. It's only gotten better as technology advanced. There are classes of considerations determined by the needs of the biological matter and the intention of the people involved at the moment of scanning. Transport from an original host for further R&D looks different from an active dispersion device. Specifics matter less to us. But both have to provide for safe transport, temperature control, so on. We can go into the details later if you'd like."

"How do you deal with false positives? Shaving cream, whatever?"

He looked at Chloe, searching for something in her eyes. Recognition, maybe. Shook his head. "It's really you." He smiled. "It's a finite universe of consumer packaged goods, manufactured containers, scientific devices… We keep up, with signatures for everything that's out now, heuristics adapting for what's new until we can get them profiled."

Chloe nodded. Max knew that look. Not yet fully satisfied, but holding for the next opportunity to poke at things.

Max circled back. "You said there were two missions?"

"Yes. The second mission, smaller circle - one of stewardship."

"…of…" prodded Max.

"I'll get to that. I promise. But I'd like to respond to your earlier questions if I may? Context is important."

"Yeah." Max took a chair. Chloe slid into the other. Max knew both of their minds were racing now. Too many questions.

 _Obviously FutureMe and FutureChloe jumped back to set something in motion. Must have been damn important to take on the risk of interacting with people, moving money, creating tech - disrupting everything that far back… Ripples. I wouldn't do it. Not without some major something… But it would have to be about something outside the first loop, wouldn't it? Maybe not. Shit. Not enough info yet…_

He continued. "So like I said, last time I saw you was in the early 1980's. In person, anyway. A couple of years after you left, there was one video call. Back before such things were more than science fiction, really. I gave you a message. The one you said to pass on. You…said that if I ever got a call from you on that line, I was to tell you to head south… We were still working out of our Dreamland space then…"

"Oh my fucking god. That was you." Chloe gave voice to Max's thoughts. Full stop.

Max reeled. That was like two, two and a half hours ago.

"So you got it already. Good. Oh… _South_. I see those looks. Tell me - did that just happen for you? Is that what finally brought you here?"

Chloe leaned back. "This is some trippy-ass shit right here, Max. Fuckin'…"

"Okay… Uh - Chloe, we were in the same building he was. The hangar. The engines. The cut wires."

"Oh my god. The camera angles. Why didn't I see it? The wires - fuck - they were a goddamn loop! It was a direct connection back to itself through a tiny fucking wormhole! Has to be. That's why it just ended. How long was that link sitting there, wide open? That's _a lot_ of power to sustain a wormhole like that over decades… wow."

Max, wanting to make sure, "Uh. Yeah, right? Nelson, question - is that the only way we communicated with you?"

Nelson shook his head. "No. I hadn't seen you in person for about two years when the call came in, but we were all here for a couple of years before that. Between Vegas and Groom, and Antelope Valley out in California… We were all friends. Spent a lot of time together. Setting up the company, building the product and research roadmaps, getting the first contracts off the ground, but we all spent a lot of time together outside of that too."

Chloe leaned forward, "Right, um - okay, so we were both physically here? You're certain of that?"

"Yes… 100%, Chloe. Your hair was different colors when we first met, but later you kept it black. Professional as you could for how young you both were. Are. I was already twenty-eight when we first met, so Jerry and I had to play the old men in meetings…"

"Jerry?"

"Our first chemist and engineer. He died a few years back. Cancer. Went fast, mercifully. We all ran together. Back then. You guys, me, Jerry, Walter, Wash… Walter, he, uh, punched out of an F-16 over Bosnia in the 90's. Never recovered his body. Lost track of Wash after the Twin Towers fell in New York. Figured he went back to his professional roots, CIA. Might be still, I don't know." He shrugged, resigned.

Max was still absorbing. "I'm sorry, but you know we don't remember any of that, right? I'm not doubting exactly, but it hasn't happened for us. Not yet."

Nelson got quiet. Nodded. Spoke slowly. Almost to himself. "Well, like I said. I was 28 when we all first met. You guys were insane and ridiculous and oddly goddamn compelling, and…terrifying sometimes. Driven for sure. And I knew it was impossible, but…well, I'm an old man now, so I can say it…I loved you both. We all did. How could we not. And then it was over. Even knowing it was coming…broke my heart when you two went away. And again, just a little more, seeing you that final time. I didn't know, you see. If I'd ever really see either of you again. If I'd still be the one waiting when you came back. You never said _when_ …"

Max could see that his eyes were glistening. _If this was all true…_

He continued, "That time, with all of us together - best I've had. Was only two years, I know - but it takes up so much more space than that. Larger than life. Anyway, you were always careful not to say too much. Worried about unintended ripples moving forward - so there were rules about how we could operate. Made sure we stayed out of the public's eye. But you trusted me with the outlines of what was coming. I never said a word of it to anyone. Scout's honor. When I saw you again, on the news back in 2014, well, I knew it was just a matter of time. Guess it always was with you two. Always was..."

"Why didn't you find us? After you knew we were here in Vegas, I mean?" Max asked.

"You know, I wanted to. Almost did once or twice. But you were adamant. You didn't want me to look for you. And if you showed up again, you asked me to wait until you came to me. That's the only way you could be sure."

"Sure of what?" asked Chloe.

"You wouldn't say. Has to do with the second mission I'm guessing."

"About that…"

"You're right. You're right. Listen to me, going on about times long gone… Have to remember…to you, I'm an old fart you've only just met." He smiled sadly, looked away. Stood, moved to the left side of the room. Lifted a painting of a lighthouse off the wall, revealing a safe.

 _Lighthouse._

As he turned the dial, Max took in the rest of the room. Began to notice the small things. Things no one else would ever know to look for. Just random keepsakes amidst the clutter of a man's office at the end of a long career. A blue butterfly inside a large dusty crystal paperweight on his desk. A snow globe with a deer inside on a bookshelf to the right. _Oregon._ Chloe was seeing them too. A framed underwater photograph behind them - two whales. A bigfoot on a mug on the sideboard. Fragments of a map taped between small panes of glass; the Taklamakan desert. A stuffed squirrel, holding a nut. A picture of Max and Chloe, clipped from a magazine, displayed in a small frame on the bookshelf. Next to an old faded Polaroid of six of them, filling out a booth in some Vegas restaurant. It was Max and Chloe for sure. And the man from the television. Messy hair. Cigarette. The others, she didn't recognize. _Not yet._

Max stood as Nelson opened the safe. She wanted to give him a hug. Something. Some small token to acknowledge what appeared to be a lifetime of friendship and loyalty. To undo some of the pain some future version of them had left behind…

Chloe said quietly, "This isn't what I was expecting to find today…"

Nelson smiled. "Like you always said, Chloe - 'Max works in mysterious ways.'" He reached into the safe, pulled out a small cube, tossed it underhand to her. "Been hanging on to this for you for half my life."

Chloe caught it effortlessly between her fingertips, bathing them in a blue light.

Max retreated into herself for a few seconds.

 _This is new. A loop I'm chasing, rather than leading. We're chasing… Or…maybe not. No. Not new. The voices…our voices…in the white expanse… The dreams in higher dimensions. The butterfly storm, Chloe's upgrades… Notes from the future. Our off-world facilities. Luna, Triton, the others… Scattered around the solar system, but also millions and millions of years in the past. Or so they said in the note. My writing and Chloe's. Pictures. Blind photo jumps into body-sphere-sized hollow spaces underground. In rock. Ice. The start. She made them for me. For us… Safe keeping…_

 _No, Chloe, I don't know how to leave my own lifeline. But I will. There's a part of me that exists outside of time - and while now-me doesn't have access to those future experiences or memories, they do exist, even now. I have them. Somewhere inside me. All time is simultaneous. …from a certain point of view. And every time she moves, she expands that lifeline for me. Enough to let me follow the photos she left. Hacking our way around our limitations in time travel._

 _And once I've been somewhere… that's enough to fold people and crates along, five days a week…_

She looked up at Nelson. "You knew us. Will…know us." Max said. Statement of fact now.

Nelson smiled warmly. "My sweetest friends. Seems like. A bit out of sequence, is all."

The cube dimmed. Chloe, face dark, slowly, deliberately rose from her chair. Voice flat, almost…afraid? "Show me."

Max, confused, "Chloe?"

Chloe, more softly now, "Please."

He nodded. Walked to the door. "It's all the way downstairs, out at the end. Vault."

"What is it Chlo?" Max followed them out.

"I need to see it first. Need to make sure before I say anything, Max. Trust me. Please. Few minutes and I'll share everything."

* * *

 **Chloe** leaned back against the cold wall of the elevator. The cube hit her like a punch in the gut.

Their day's adventures, her curiosity and excitement about their future travels to the past, even irritation at Max's cryptic throwaway non-answer - 'it's complicated' - all shot to hard background when she read the contents.

She knew it was real. True. It came from her, after all.

She pushed off in the room. Delayed, anyway.

A few minutes, to hold this burden alone.

Max chatted up her new friend on the way down, oblivious.

Her voice a wash of burbling musical notes… Chloe wasn't listening to the words. Just the sound. Faraway. Happy.

 _She deserves a few minutes._

As sick to her stomach as she was, Chloe felt worse for Max. She put so much of herself into changing everything. Into saving everyone… again.

Chloe knew better than to try to protect her. Promises aside, it was too easy to forget what she really was. With all her easy, goofy, stupid, sarcastic, sweet day-to-day chill…

 _Forever 18. And 21. And 350. And more than 500._ _And something…other._

Chloe wasn't naive. She knew Max. Heard things at night sometimes. She knew there was a lot of missing time that couldn't be accounted for with micro-jumps. Max had seen and experienced the worst of humanity. They both had, but… And she still fought. Hard. Still believed that the good outweighed the bad. That people could make a difference. That they were worth saving. That they could be so amazing, like it wasn't even a question. And she knew Max was right. She'd seen it too. Last loop.

 _And all of this - might not make a goddamn bit of difference in the end._

Even without any real information, the implications of the thing in the vault…

 _Fuck. What hope do we have?_

 _Even with all of our…her…powers…_

 _Is any of it even gonna matter?_

 _So much sound and fury…just noise…_

 _Even the turnaround in the last timeline - did we…they…only delay the inevitable? Is that why she didn't include experiential memories after Max's disappearance? Was there an urgency behind her rapid evolution that went beyond her own survival? Beyond finding Max?_

 _Fuck. What does this mean? What does this mean? What does this_ _ **mean?**_

They came to a stop. Door dinged, opened to the long, dark utility corridor.

* * *

 **Max** walked into the elevator first. Nelson followed. Chloe passed between them, half sitting on the rails of the back. Quiet. That faraway 'I'm processing' look. Max let her be.

The doors closed. Nelson inserted a key below the row of floor buttons, turned it. Hit the floor buttons in a coded sequence. Removed his key as the elevator slowly descended.

Max touched his arm. "Thank you."

He smiled an apology. "Sorry. Didn't mean to get overly emotional in there. Seeing you guys again… I…shouldn't have shared all of that. Still ahead for you. Might change how you are around me. The guys. You know, spoilers, right?"

"It's okay. I'm sure we'll manage."

He changed the subject. "Speaking of, I'll have my people get in touch with your people. To formalize the acquisition of Lombard Aerospace under MCCP."

Max smiled. "How much is this gonna cost us?"

"Modest sum. Two hundred million ought to do. Enough to look like a legitimate asset purchase. That's about eight times profits, which is the right formula. Most piles back into development, so real contract revenues are obviously much higher. Don't mind me - it's all going to the charities of your choice."

"You won't keep any?"

"I've been very well compensated over the years, Max. I've never wanted. You two made sure of that. Stock tips. The holding company made a few key investments out of early profits. Some were short term, fuel for the R&D budgets. Others were long term holds. Conservatively, diversified investments under management are worth somewhere north of five billion. I'll hang onto that for my own retirement."

Max gave a laugh. "So you'll give away the two-hundred million for this, but you'll keep the five-billion and the holding company?"

"I won't use much of it. And after I go, all my assets transfer back to you two anyway. Virtuous circle."

"Well, hopefully not for a long time. Sounds like we have a deal then."

"And so we do. And here we are." The doors opened to a long, dark utility corridor.

He motioned to the golf cart parked against one wall. Reached down to unplug it from the outlet. He took the wheel, waited for them to get aboard, and they sped off in silence.

Max glanced back into the dim of the tunnel. Chloe's face picked up the alternating cycles of light and dark from the passing overhead lamps. She was still withdrawn, her expression troubled.

Nelson said, "I'm curious, Max. If you didn't know we were here, or that we 'were' at all, what were you two doing at Groom?"

"Oh, yeah. Uh, we snuck in. Long story, but bad guys hit me with a gravity generator in Vegas. A number of clues set us off on a search for a place called S4."

He chuckled. "Of course they did. But see? Now if you'd started here…"

"Is it real? Do you know where it is? It's been driving us nuts today."

"I do. Sorry to disappoint, but it's long gone. It was right up the service road, halfway to the Mercury Highway. Bout a mile or two? Hard to see, under the roadway like that. The hangar doors were hidden in the embankment leading down to the lake bed. It's all concrete fill now. I think they abandoned it sometime in the early 90's. We were still working out of the Ranch back then, so I'm sorry I don't know anything more than the rumors. I mean, we didn't lease this site out here until the late 90's, so…"

"Is there any way we can take a look without drawing attention?"

He gave her a look, eyes rolling in the flickering lights. "You were always pretty good at moving between moments… Oh, and by the way - next time you feel like you want to sneak into Area-51, don't. We're small, but we still maintain a hangar on-base. Which is your hangar now. Again. As senior parent executives of a subsidiary defense contractor in good standing, you'll have access. There's paperwork, obviously, but nothing you two can't handle…"

"That's both good to know, and slightly less fun."

"Goes without saying. We should introduce you around the base sometime. Ownership on some of the major defense contractors is muddy as you'd expect. But the people working the problems on site are a pretty interesting bunch. Enthusiasts, you might say. I think some of them would get a real kick out of meeting you guys in person."

She caught herself before she could say 'really?'…

They were nearly there. He stopped twenty feet or so from the end. Max expected a vault door of some kind. Or maybe at least a door of some kind? This looked like slab of concrete. Dead end.

"That's uh… nice door?"

"This section of underground is the one improvement we made to the place when we took over. There's no door. The interior vault space is a cube, twenty-feet on a side, with this hallway at the centerline of one axis. Just to orient you. The walls are ten-foot of reinforced concrete in every direction outside of that. Been sealed since 2000. Took forever to cure. Thing was throwing off heat for years. Sure they thought we were testing a reactor down here or something. Anyway, figure you can show yourself in. Just, mind the drop…"

Max slid out of the seat, throwing shadows as she approached the wall. Rough. Cool to the touch. She looked back. Chloe was out, leaned against the front of the cart. She shrugged. Motioned for Max to do her thing.

Max took a step back. Froze a thin sheet of space, rectangular, slightly larger than a normal door. Walked it ahead, buffering the material in the forward event horizon, carving a doorway for them. Air hissed inward as she breached the inner wall.

She called back, "Chloe? We're through. Little light? Or…I could make a wormhole, I guess."

She heard footsteps echo from the corridor behind. She dropped down into the room, slid the sheet edgewise, sideways through the concrete, out another hundred feet into the earth below the salt flat. Collapsed it. She might have heard a soft thump in the distance, as ten feet of concrete pushed its way back into three-dimensional existence into the salt and dirt. Shrugged. What's a minor seismic disturbance out here?

Max scanned the dim interior. Couldn't see much. The air was too dry, for sure. Her footsteps crunched. Chloe came in behind her, bringing her holo to life. A million amber stars reflected and refracted off the walls as she moved. A thin sheen of salt crystals had grown on the inside…

The room was empty, save for a single metal table in the center. On the table, a wooden tray. On the tray, a small stone. Dark, polished. Like a river rock. Only with some sort of intricately tiny gold curves painted on it maybe. Max looked closer. What she thought were lines were actually flowing rows and loops of tiny symbols. And what she thought was gold paint turned out to be amber reflections picking out the edges of the microscopic surface etchings. She could see that they were softly glowing a pale green underneath. Leaking through. Like the tritium from one of Chloe's gunsights.

It was beautiful.

Max felt the shock as she touched it. Next thing she knew, she was on the floor against the wall, hand tingling, a pain in her shoulder, and an ache at the back of her head.

Chloe rushed over, hovering. "Max! You okay?"

Max, softly, "ow."

"Your nose…"

Max felt the blood drip above her lip. Like an old, mostly annoying friend.

Nelson crouched in the doorway above. "Max?"

Max looked up, held her head. "um… ow. hi."

Chloe, apologetic, "Sorry dude - I didn't know…"

Max rolled her eyes. "anomaly detected."

Chloe looked back. "Thingie's gone."

Max shook her head. "it's here somewhere. equal and opposite reaction…"

Chloe, hand on Max's knee, "You should time-out."

"Go. Look. I'm okay."

Chloe nodded, moved away.

Max picked herself back up. Salt crystals fell from her lab coat as she moved. Felt the back of her head. Bump. Wiped under her nose. Gave the room a pause, accelerated her body clock, sending her healing into overdrive. Slid back to normal time feeling much better.

The shock wasn't electrical exactly. But something. Despite the regen, her hand still hurt a little.

"Found it!" Chloe said from the other side of the vault. She was bent over, poking at the wall.

Max noted that the entry hole was larger than the stone. "Wow. Shit. It actually went into the concrete?"

'Yeah… Looks like. So, here's something. It's bigger now. Exposed crystals, wrong shape, kindof inside out. And not shiny. So…yeah."

"That's…odd."

Chloe paused. "You know, there are certain phrases that kind of lose meaning after centuries around you…"

"Sorry…" Max moved closer to look at it over Chloe's shoulder. She felt a push of repulsion at about five feet. Like opposing poles on really strong magnets wanting to move her sideways…

"Max, stop."

"The fuck? You feel that?"

"What? No. But when you came up it started moving. Inside. Changing again."

"That's…yeah. Are you gonna be able to get it out?"

"I don't think so. It's bigger now than when it went in. If I had chopsticks or something maybe I could push it around, but… It's like it's on the wrong side of a bottleneck. Assuming I had a way to grab it, which I don't, I don't think it's coming out the way it went in. Sorry, dude. I knew it was broken, but I didn't know it would react to your touch like that."

"Broken?"

"Well, off axis. The cube…said. Um, so okay - it's trans-dimensional, but knocked loose. A point somewhere in it is still anchored here, but it's like rolling around…" Chloe waved her hands, "…out there. Which looks like an irregular, growing, shrinking, weird geometry kind of thing here… We did it with a nuke, apparently? Anyway…"

"Gotcha. Um. Why? You know, fuck it. Here, I'll just rewind and not touch it this time. Gimmie cube?"

"Yeah. Just a sec." A blue glow, then Chloe handed it off. "See you before."

"It'll be dark. Need to orient myself to the door real quick. There. Okay."

Max rewound past her point of entry, back into darkness. The tray was somewhere behind her. This time, she carved the doorway starting from the bottom of the floor on the inside, ramping up. Easier for everyone to get in and out without the sudden five-foot drop.

She emerged at the top, tossed the cube to Chloe, still leaning against the front of the cart. Nelson back behind the wheel. Chloe caught it, glowed blue. Fired up an amber light. Followed Max down. "Interesting."

"Right?"

Nelson came in behind them.

"Shit." Max said.

"Shit." Chloe agreed.

"What?" asked Nelson.

Tray was empty.

"It was right here - I placed it here myself, and I watched as we poured the last wall."

"No, it's not that. It was here. We saw it too. There was a reaction… Rewind. Max, you don't think…"

"Crap. It's still in the wall, isn't it?"

Chloe shrugged. "Wow. Okay - so it's _really_ off-axis. Damn, girl…"

"I could prolly carve around it? Need to be careful about accidentally hitting it though."

"You know Max - let's…um…not take the risk? We've got two trans-dimensional objects interacting out of sight here, you being one of them, and…we have no idea how that…"

"Why did we do this again?"

"Safety, I think."

"So glad that worked out."

"I actually think it did… anyway… Nelson - aside from Max playing bus driver for the next week, what do we need to do to clear a few of our teams in and out of here? I'll…build lightsabers or something to carve it out. Do this the old fashioned way."

He shrugged casually. "I'll handle everything. Just get me a list of names."

"Cool. Once we get it out, we'll figure out how to move it safely. I left myself instructions on how to fix it. Re-align and lock it, I guess. Designs for a machine - but I'll need way more energy than you have available out here."

"Chloe - seriously - talk. The fuck is this thing? Why would we bring it here?"

Chloe stopped. Took a breath. "I don't have the whole back story, Max. I think she…I…knew it would take some time to stabilize it first. And more time to figure it out. If I had to guess at our motivation, I'd say we'll know what we need to know when we need to know it, but not too much before. Control the variables - you know how fucking with time works - and how careful we might need to be.

As to the 'what', I have the bare bones of it. And…you're not gonna like it. I don't fucking like it."

"Spill…"

Chloe let out another rapid deep breath. "It's obviously not just a rock. It's a…node, I guess. Ancient. Something we found off-world. Or took from someone…I can't tell. Tech. …ish. Alien. Simple, but way fucking advanced. Half a billion years old, at least. Part of a system… not exactly a computer, or network, at least, not in the way that we think about them…"

"So, what, is it like OtherChloe? Is it…you know…alive, or?"

"No, not…exactly. It's something…different. Found, cultivated, but subverted for a terrible purpose. Something they use to navigate. That's part of it. Like…a…galactic _fucking_ Cerebro. It's how they know which worlds…"

Max could see that Chloe was barely keeping it together.

She nodded, reached out. "Hey - it's okay, Chloe. We always knew this was about more than just earth. Planet Steve? The paintings…"

"No, Max, you don't understand. It's also like…sets of rolling records. Of where they've been, I think, and…look, we're not talking about some crazy-ass rogue alien assholes picking off planets one at a time. Or some traveling locust race, or even fucking Reapers… I caught a flash… past the data…I'm not sure I meant to include it in the upload, but maybe it was intentional, maybe it was a leak. I mean, I couldn't read them, but they were linked sequences of repeating symbols, groups of five. IDs of some sort, and coordinates, right? In time and space? That's one thing it could be? It's what she thought they were. Fuck. Just the brief bit I saw… Max, there were fucking millions of 'em…"

Max, after a stunned pause, "Oh. fuck me…that's…a lot of planets…"

"No, Max. No. Not planets. It's a lot of _devices_. Like this one. Being used. Each representing another endless trail of murdered worlds…"

Max was quiet for a moment. Finally, slowly, "Chloe. We'll figure it out. We always do. There's a reason…"

"Dude. _Are you fucking kidding me?_ I'm sorry, but the sheer fucking scale…like this is industrial galaxy class bullshit. I mean, I love you, and I know you're nothing short of amazing, but…this…I just can't… like - what? I mean, who the _fuck are we_ to figure anything out? You know? _I'm just some girl… like…who the fuck am I?_ "

Quiet.

"I know who you are." Nelson's voice resonated through the darkness, building in the space between twinkling amber stars. Almost as if the room had been purpose built for this moment. Familiar, warm, but unyielding, he said, "You're Chloe _fucking_ Price. And she's Max _fucking_ Caulfield. _That's who you are._ You're closed loops. Neither of you is supposed to exist. Max dead at birth, you dead by two. That was the score. That's what you said to me.

Your girl beyond time there - she's here cause she chose to be. Fought her way into this life. Saved herself, and she's been saving your sorry ass one way or another ever since. That's not for nothing. So. Here we all are. You got some bad news. Take whatever time you need. You get this out of your system. Do whatever you have to do to get your shit together. Cause when you come back up top, you need to walk out as the gods you've made yourselves into.

 _You_ chose this fight. Both of you. And now you've got a whole goddamn bunch of people dragging alongside you trying to figure out how to help. They believe in you and the future you've sold them. _And they need to keep believing in you._ Cause there's billions more counting on all of us to not fuck it up. More, by the sound of things. So they need to see that you believe too - that there's a chance. Cause, without that, you might as well rewind back to nothing, cause we're all just ash…

Shake it off. Then work the problem. Break it down a piece at a time if you have to. But you pick up and you keep moving forward. Just like the rest of us."

He turned, walked up the ramp. At the top, he looked back to Max. Chloe was facing the other way, couldn't see. He bowed his head slightly. She understood. Diminishing footsteps as he returned down the tunnel to his cart.

Chloe, under her breath, "fuck."

Max pulled her into a hug. After a minute, said, "Hey. Look, I don't know much. But I believe in us. I do. Us as kids. Us in the first loop. Us now. And all the future versions of us that are still out there, helping along the way. I've learned my lesson on that. I'll never bet against us in any form, Chloe. Not ever."

Chloe sniffled. "I know. It's just, there's limits, you know? There's such a thing as too much. I'm just…it's fucking overwhelming."

"I know, baby. I know. I feel it sometimes too. But…he's right. We've gotta find a way to push through it. We don't have the luxury. There's no one else steppin' up here. We've got us, and our team. So we'll figure it out. Together. All of us. And any versions of us across time, or in the sideways branches - whoever wants to help, whatever it takes. It doesn't change anything here. Now. There's still one problem at a time to solve. Work to be done. Junior level Earth bad-guys to sort out. A future to help engineer. And, look, maybe we can't do anything more than safeguard home for a while. I don't know. But whatever comes, remember that we're not alone. So don't you dare give up on me Chloe."

Chloe snorked. "What are you? Fucking Samwise now?"

Max snickered softly.

Chloe smiled. Whispered, "…love you Max."

"I know."

Chloe through a laugh, "…and, oh my fucking god I hate you sometimes."

Max, half laughing, half crying, "I know…"

"what do you think he meant? 'bout us being closed loops?"

"I dunno…"

"shit. guess we gotta do this." Chloe took a breath.

Max pulled back, met Chloe's eyes. "Looks like."

"Kinda puts things around here in perspective I guess, right?" She looked away, blinked. Looked back. Her eyes, quietly reflecting artificial stars, suddenly pulsed rings of electric blue. "Fuck 'em. What do we do? Guess first thing is to get the crew briefed. Get an extraction team out here to rescue our wayward little artifact…"

"Yeah?"

"Gotta figure out how any of this shit maps to our local earth gangs too, I guess, right? I mean, their long game feels like assisted suicide, not space invaders…"

Max pressed her forehead into Chloe's. "Yep. Prolly someone in charge somewhere, maybe, right? Or…something. That's another index card for the board…"

"Yeah." Chloe looked down for a moment. Whispered, "…thanks, Max."

"Always."

Arms around each other, they walked up the ramp to the exit.

Chloe stopped at the top, ran her hand through her hair, laughed as she shook the color back her usual blues. "That fucking prick."

Nelson and the cart were gone.

Max shook her head. "Nah. He was giving us space. Knew we could use a walk. Or we could just, you know, appear or whatevs…"

"…still a prick."

"I like him." After a moment, Max tugged on Chloe's far side belt-loop with her thumb. Asked, "We good?"

Chloe wiped her cheeks. "Yeah, for now."

"We gods?" Max smiled.

Chloe shook her head. Sighed. Said with resigned mock enthusiasm, "We gods."

Max leaned her head on Chloe's shoulder as they started down the hallway. "So, um, Chlo? I don't know if this will make you feel any better, or maybe this isn't the best time to tell you, but… Um. I kinda sorta became a warp drive yesterday?"

Chloe chuckled. Gave Max's hip a gentle pull toward her. "You know. It kinda does, actually. Tell me about it?"


	11. Juliet

**Max** balanced forward, elbows on her desk, tapping at the holo. Something was off with her haptic settings. Delay, or…something - maybe it was her. Felt like hitting a melted marshmallow in the air instead of the pear-fresh snap she preferred. No diagnostic help from Chloe. She was long gone before Max got back home this morning. Downstairs. Working on her new machine in the dark again.

They'd had a couple of weeks. To adjust.

Took Chloe and the extraction teams two days to get the artifact out of the vault wall, back at Site 6. Careful logistics to transport it safely to one of the lab spaces at HQ - middle of the night, of course. Even with all that, the drones scanning the road ahead missed something an hour or so in. Semi-truck took a surprise bump creeping around a corner. Jostled the back wrong, and the device shifted laterally. Expanded by ten feet in diameter, momentarily exceeding eighty tons before breaking free and rolling off in another, smaller direction. That was the only incident. Few hours to replace the trailer wheels and two axles, and they were back home.

They briefed the exec team day same day. Then went back and forth about telling the rest of the global staff. Those arguing for a wait were concerned about the high probability they'd be freaking everyone out on insufficient information. Chloe and Max were united on the side of disclosure. Along with Sophie. If there was ever an appropriate time for everyone to freak the fuck out, this was probably it. Wasn't the answer to the Fermi paradox some were hoping for. But…

Rip the bandage off.

Transparency won. The global all-hands meeting was predictably tense. Stunned silence mixed with unanswerable questions. But that was partly their point. They needed their team engaged to help figure it all out.

Didn't end up changing much in the way of projects or priorities or day to day activities, but it did shift the context for everyone. Staff went through the predictable stages. But by the second week, a sort of gallows humor crept in. And now, it was feeling almost back to normal. It wasn't, but… Turns out, Nelson had been right. Teams looked to Max and Chloe for a sense of how to react. So they played the role of participatory leaders. Concerned. Caring. But not fearful. Had the intended effect.

Not that there weren't private moments of doubt...

 _Yeah… Meanwhile, Chloe's looking to_ _ **me**_ _for a sense of how to react…_

 _Have to remind myself… she has copies of OtherChloe's memories - and admittedly god-tier augmentation - but…she's still chronologically twenty-one. Okay, almost twenty-two (which reminds me…). It all helps, but she's still just a li'l pup underneath all that tech and memory armor…_

Max wasn't without her own fears…but the buck had to stop somewhere.

That was her burden to carry. …another.

She sipped at her second cup of coffee. Trying to shake the cobwebs out.

Last night had been another sleepless one, which didn't help with her mood.

The late evening request came from deep inside Roscosmos. Unofficially, of course. Colleague to colleague, backchannels. They'd lost power on a very expensive and important satellite observatory yesterday afternoon. Bad luck. Suspected micrometeoroid strike. They could replace the power systems, but had no way to get people out and back with its highly elliptical orbit. Rumor was, 'someone' had a quiet way up. And it would be worth a hundred million to them if the observatory could somehow be salvaged and repaired before its orbit decayed. Fraction of what it cost them to design, manufacture and put it up there.

The zeroes added up for Jeremy. And intel confirmed it didn't have military applications, so no red flags. But of course, Max was their space program, so it had to be her. No one outside MCCP could know that, which complicated things a little, as the Russians were insistent on using at least one of their own techs to do the repairs.

In the end, Max folded Skywatch around the satellite, matching orbit, capturing it in their main build-bay. A few of the shake-down crew helped retract the thirty-foot dish and twin solar arrays so the whole thing would fit inside the large format shipping container she'd brought up. Once inside, they rigged some lighting, locked the container and Max folded the sedated technician and his stuff directly into it. Took him an hour to come far enough out to confidently begin. Another three to complete the repairs, along with a few opportunistic upgrades. He self-sedated after, as agreed, having never been aware of how he'd been transported, or that he'd ever been inside a space station. Took him back to HQ, where they kept him under for a few hours to hide any timing detail. Meanwhile, the team unfurled the dish and solar array inside the bay. With all the lead shielding, signals back to earth didn't resume until Max folded Skywatch back to L2, leaving the repaired satellite free to continue its prior orbit.

It was a good night's work, grossed them a cool hundred-mil, but…this was two nights in a row without rest. She was pretty much beat. Granted, she could crash out for the day and rewind or jump after, but… _meh. There's something a little_ …human, she was going to say, but maybe a little more… _nostalgic…about being like everyone else?_ Even if she didn't have to be. _Push through._

She went to take another sip, got air, noticed her mug was empty. How many times had she done that just now without noticing?

Cupboard door crashed in the other room. Emo, off running around like a furry race car, launching off of walls and scrabbling over tile. _Need to get some new pictures._ Refocused. There was a reason she came in here. Wasn't there? _Crap. Oh, Right._ Squished the display. Scanned her inbox on the screen. Messages waiting.

Their direct contact info wasn't published anywhere on their web site, and Max's meager social accounts were private. So, forwarding notes from randoms addressed to Max or Chloe was a fact of life for the sales and marketing teams. Sometimes HR, PR, anyone with an externally published company email address or social account, really.

 _Only a hundred this weekend. Slackin' off, peeps…_

Thankfully, they filtered the obvious interview requests, spam, cranks and trolls. That left a combination of random fan mail, charitable requests, a few personal notes, and a lesser number of non-threatening weirdos, inventors and theorists. And the occasional 'missed connection' attempt. Which she suspected was mostly John, messing with the sales and marketing staff.

She made the time to skim most of them.

Some messages she saved. Little reminders or pick-me-ups. A minor form of therapy. She heard PR had IT archiving all of them going back pretty far. Jillian probably had dreams of publishing them in a tribute book someday or something. _Never happen._ They came in over public lines, but they were still private and special to Max. She let the archive continue out of respect for the senders, but that was as far as it would ever go.

 _Few more minutes yet._ She sipped again at her empty cup, made a face at herself, put it down. Scanned a few messages near the top.

::::::::::

 _DEAR MISSES MAXINE CAULDSFIELDS!_

 _my names casey and Im 5 and a HALF. THanks for saving mom from the fire at wrok. W e won ttell. but Im glad th4 it burned and how she's home again all day. here_

 _Your freind i hope!_

 _casey._

 _ps! im almost 6 soon ok bye_

::::::::::

Max smiled, saved.

 _Gulf of Mexico._ Breaking news report about a month ago. Started as a fire in the kitchen of an offshore oil rig. Faulty suppression. Spread quickly through living quarters. Six people died before… Max popped back, got there as it started, folded three people out, dumped a room full of sand from the middle of a Saharan dune to put out the fire before it could spread. No casualties. No news item. Someone obviously recognized her though. _Have to send Chloe on another internet scrubbing session soon…_

The ones from kids were always cute. She could usually tell when the parents helped.

This didn't seem like one of those.

She read the next note.

::::::::::

 _Max,_

 _Hi. Guess it's okay to call you that. You probably don't remember me at all. I wouldn't have._

 _This is weird. I'm really sorry to intrude. I just recognized the picture of you, from the paper, and finally found your web site. Had no idea who you guys were then. But I need to say this anyway. Even if you never get it or read it or whatever. Promise I'm not stalking, but I was your server at Cora's, over by 95. You and your partner came in for dinner maybe a year ago? After I took your order I guess, you saw through the concealer, and I just wanted to say thank you. For what you guys said. I know I brushed you off, but I did think about it later. It kept coming back. And I don't know, I guess I was in denial. But I did it. Finally got out, told my brother what that POS did, and now I'm just taking some time on my own for a while. I know it was a nothing moment for you. But, you really helped me. Even if I didn't think I needed it. So, thank you._

 _Elise._

::::::::::

Max clicked. Another 'save'. "I do remember. Good for you."

 _Time for just one more._

::::::::::

 _Yo, Maximus Maximus,_

 _Man, I don't know what the fuck you are. Jury's out. but I know what you done. Blanca, she's my cuz. Arturo too. David, Tomas they all used to roll with us back in the day. OG. Bailed out now, thanks to whatever shit you said to that judge. Home hanging with the fam, you know, heard all bout that shit went down. Stories going round. stuff they wont put on the news. googled up. some batshit out there bout you, but you know, lines up with what they sayin._

 _I don't know. you bought mad respect tho. Goin' off, gettin' all fuckin crazy xmen and shit. Even after they banged on you and your crew, you all like off rescuing family from the same motherfuckers that stole em? Like, what? Man, nobody does shit for nobody. Jus let the cops fail, whatever. But you looked past whats in your face to see what s really real. Listened. fuckin' helped. Epic fuckin beatdowns too. Represent._

 _Like they sayin now you all sent by god and shit. sposed to be some kinda angel. Don't know bout that. But whateva. Fuck it. We got u now, ya know? I know you all rich and freaky and whatever, don't need nothing. But don't matter. word spreadin. Y'all pulled in some major rep for that shit. Ain't forgot._

 _Peace yo._

 _Damien OUT._

::::::::::

Max paused. Let out a breath.

 _Really, really need to get Chloe out on a scrubbing run. I'm almost afraid to look at what kinds of 'batshit' might be out there…_

 _Still…_ she grinned. _Three for three._ _Good morning._ She hit 'save'. Covered her mouth as she giggled. "Oh my god. I can't wait to tell Chloe. She's gonna be _so super_ jealous. I have actual real live official 'rep' now!" _Hehe._

* * *

 **Juliet** reclaimed her tea chair across from the disheveled man. Not unattractive. Grey-black mop. Wire glasses. Stubbly. Rumpled. Or well-traveled maybe? _Elliot. My babysitter._

"We didn't get a chance to Skype before I left. Sorry." he offered with a lazy wave of his hand.

She caught the faint echo of an accent, but couldn't place it.

He'd only knocked on her hotel door a moment ago. She thought he might, so she'd gotten up early to shower. Light makeup. Enough to cover for the redeye out of JFK anyway. Hair wrapped in a towel. Pink sweat pants, Uggs and stretchy black top. Hand-made necklace she'd picked up at a boutique in Chelsea. Comfortable. Morning. Wasn't even seven yet. It was stupid, but this was kindof a big kid day for her. Tired, but really excited too.

She lifted her cappuccino. "It's okay. Where did you come in from? I've read a few of your bylines, but I don't remember seeing you in the New York office."

He noticed the extra cup on the table. Near the fruit. Espresso. Nodded a thanks, slammed it, slouched back. "I live in Lisbon now. But split my work time between Geneva and London. We have so little time this morning to prepare. Might we talk strategy instead? What can you tell me about them? Personal. Outside the usual corporate bio bullshit? You were all friends in school?"

She nodded, put the cup down, sat up a little straighter. _Business then._ "Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say we were all _friends_ …"

"That's the line you sold your chief." He paused, seemed disappointed.

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I probably knew Max as well as anyone there after a few months sharing a bathroom. A lot of people, they thought she was just this stuck up hipster chick from Seattle, you know, with pretensions at art. But she wasn't. Not like that. She had an okay eye, even if it was a little one-note. Quiet, but she could be sweet. A little funny. Maybe more sarcastic than funny? People thought she was, you know, kind of disinterested; I did at first. But mostly I think she was just painfully shy. Total late bloomer syndrome. She said once that she used her camera to sort of mediate between herself and rest of the world, and like, that's…I think all some people ever saw."

"Interesting. None of that shows up in her public persona. What's it been for you all? Few years only since, ah…?"

"Yeah. Look, even then I figured she was just kinda late to her own life, you know? But toward the end, she was starting to get out a little more, more confident, opened up a little."

"End?"

"Arcadia Bay. Town on the Oregon coast where we met; it was torn apart by a freak waterspout partway through our senior year…"

"Oh, right. That was sad. Lot of dead people. I remember something about that. But Max survived. You too?"

"Yeah. Well…obviously? I never saw her again though. That whole time period was pretty much a horrible blur. I lost more than a few friends… But…I didn't put it all together until last year. Where they were and…what they were now. I reconnected with one of the other survivors from our dorm on Facebook. She deactivated her account for a while I guess, but she brought me up to speed. A little fawning, but…Max was helping her out with something pretty serious, and like full-on saved her life back then…"

"Caulfield? Saved someone's life?"

"Kate. That's her name. There was a…bad party video of her. Went viral. Nothing porny, but still pretty embarrassing…"

"Fuckin' school-kids, man. You're all mean as snakes now with the social and the internet."

"Yeah. I was just as guilty for watching it, I know. But…it put her up on the edge of a roof. We did. To make it worse, we found out later she was drugged. In the video. Another victim of one of Mark Jefferson's protégés…"

"Jesus. Jet-lag. Yeah, yeah… Jefferson. Creepy has-been asshole went down for drugging girls for some kind of higher fucking art or something? That was the same town? Same time. Shit."

"Yeah…"

"Different articles. Funny how things that stick in your head as unrelated were all part of someone's bad week."

"Yeah. Mine. Max's too. And her, I guess partner now, Chloe. She lost her mother. After losing her dad when she was a few years younger I think. Sucked. Anyway, the roof. We were all just freaking out, you know, scared as hell but…gawking. Max got up there somehow, talked her down. At least one person in this fucked up little world was on her side. Max saved us as much as Kate, I think. I can't imagine…if she'd really jumped… Like, I mean, that moment on, Max was our fucking hero too. You know, for a few days. Until half the town died. Like I said, it was all fucked up."

"Okay, so this is good detail. Helpful. We'll need to round this out by sourcing some quotes from others who were there. You can add more color on background later, but it's really best for the article if the quotes are attributed to someone else."

"No, I understand how stories go together…"

"Here then - let me see your outline. You have some questions already? What are your thoughts on direction?"

"Yeah. Here." She pulled it up on her phone, handed it across the table to him.

He studied. Groused. "Bad questions."

"What do you mean? This is just…"

"This is the Journal, not People Magazine. Too fluffy. And half of these we could look up ourselves. Don't waste interview time."

Juliet scowled. "I was going to…"

He ignored her. "Listen. Background you gave was okay. But psychology aside, where's the story? What's new? Interesting?"

"Um…that she's talking at all?"

"No, I'll tell you one angle - the billion-dollar question. How did global fucking darling MCCP rise out of those two girls? Out of them specifically I mean? What did they do? How? There's no time between. No skills acquisition. No time or place for networking. Business is hard. It takes money, work, education, people, and a lot of time. You went to the same school. You're what, in school still? Social media guru or whatever they call you unemployed millennials now?"

"You're thinking student, blogger and intern, but I'm heading toward journalist." She was liking him less the more he spoke.

"Whatever. You'll be out of work with the rest of us soon enough. My point - you're here, they're there. It's not normal. Especially if they weren't taking over a legacy business from their parents or something."

"No, there's tons of young…"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, okay. Sure. In fucking California, where twenty-year-old dropouts play beer-pong with strippers and run consumer tech 'companies' that have never made a dime, and probably never will make a dime - but they're somehow worth billions on paper. At least the Tech City kids in London have the good sense to stay in school. Thing is, even the dropout's funding is transparent - everyone is proud to shout it out. And what they've built is mostly trivial - simple - whatever next flavor of mobile chat app or…you know what I mean?"

Juliet didn't bother to respond.

"It's not the same. This MCCP is a complex, multidisciplinary technical conglomerate with nearly twenty-thousand employees worldwide. They're channeling massive amounts of money into R&D, with published roadmaps commercializing breakthroughs in an almost non-profit sort of way. Maybe if they were old-money wunderkind or something and had been at this for twenty years it would make sense, but…

"They're your friends. Who invested in these girls to start with? How did they meet them? How could someone responsible make a financial decision like that? Are they even qualified to be receptionists at a company of this scale? On paper I mean? You see the gap? From nothing, in under three years. Why do any of their employees listen to them? How can they respect such ignorance, being top educated minds in their fields? And there's nothing about this angle out there. It's a story no one has written - and one they don't seem anxious to tell.

"I spend most of my time chasing corporate bullshittery in the EU. I've looked at part of this company before over there. What little shows. Talked to people. It's privately held, but seems clean. What they sell is miracles, which is the first red flag. Who knows if any of it's real? Fusion and clean tech and rumors of other things. Some do-gooder tech moguls, your friends, yeah? Something's got to be off here. They aren't those people. Can't be, can they? How? Who are their investors? What's it all about? You see it too? You knew them both - did you ever think…"

She shook her head, resigned. Wheels turning. "No. Hell no. Chloe, she was a juvenile delinquent on her way to becoming an adult delinquent. Max was afraid of her own shadow. I guess they grew up together in town, before, but believe me, I'm more than a little baffled. I spent a little time with Max in the dorms, on the rare occasions she came out of her room. She was usually invisible in classes, but… I partied with Chloe a few times too, back before she got herself expelled. She was always pretty wasted, honestly. Pawing all over Rachel Amber. That was our friend…the girl Jefferson murdered before… No one could figure out why Rachel put up with Chloe though. She was so obvious. Always out of it. It was really painful to watch. But then, Chloe chased Rachel's ghost long after everyone else had given up, so what the fuck do I know about what they were to each other? Look, I'm not trying to slam them or anything, cause I really did feel bad for Chloe, and Max was nice - just super unsure of herself. Point is, they're just the normal amount of fucked up. Like anyone else. Like, not terrible, not great. Smart-ish, but not geniuses as far as I could tell. I uh, honestly have no idea where all this came from."

He shrugged. "Martians then?"

"Huh?"

"Sorry. Joke. Replaced by Martians. Okay, so I need breakfast and half an hour. We'll talk more on the ride over. But you play the friend. I'm going to push. Just a tactic. Want to see what shakes loose. How they do under pressure. I have a couple of additional angles in mind, a few outside sources and leads to chase, but I want to get their reactions to a few things in the room. I don't expect them to actually answer all of the questions as asked. And you should know that I don't necessarily think everything I say in there is true. But if you watch, you'll learn more from their body language and reactions than their words. That will guide you to the right questions. Pay attention, and you might learn something today that stays with you the rest of your career."

"Wait, I'm doing the…"

"You're an access key - sorry sweetie, but that's the truth, and everyone in the room already knows it. But as a friend, you're also there to apologize for me later. Get invited to something social after maybe if you can. We may only ever get this one shot at interviewing them, so I still need to do my job. Yours is to try to smooth that over - and maybe keep the lines open. It would be a minor coup if we were the only paper with regular access, but I get paid the same and go back home after either way. One good story at least. There's something off here. We both see it. So I'm going to pull some threads."

"I hear you, but I thought…"

"That you'd be the one running the interviews? That's cute. And they flew me all the way here for what? To sit like a pretty flower? This is how it is. The way of things. You're a sophomore intern and we're handing you shared byline on a major profile exclusive for one of the most respected newspapers in the world."

"That's not fair. It's not what I was promised, or what they're expecting."

"Fair? It's more than fair. All you have to do is show up, and we literally green-light the rest of your career. It almost doesn't matter what they say. It's more than anyone else has gotten. Enjoy the ride. Do your part. Everyone comes out way ahead. It's why you're here, yes?" He rose, lumbered toward the door. "I'm going. Downstairs in 30 minutes. Wear that top and a short skirt if you have one. They swing your way - you might distract one of them long enough to accidentally say something off script…"

Juliet was almost speechless. Almost. "You're an actual pig."

As the door closed behind him, "Cynical realist, but as you say. 30 minutes. No more."

* * *

 **Max** walked out to the kitchen, dropped her mug in the sink. Felt something off a fraction of a second before his voice broke the air behind her.

"Ms. Caulfield. If I might have a word?"

She turned to the living room, to the source. To the tiny squeak of Emo.

He filled the large overstuffed chair between two of the sofas. Halfway across the room. Sharp green eyes, medium length black hair, trimmed beard. Older. In his forties, maybe. He wore an expensive black suit, tailored. Shoes polished to mirror perfection. Fat gold Rolex. His large hands surrounded Emo like a cage. Held him in place on his chest.

All the obvious questions - who was this dude, how did he get in, what did he want - faded to background before her inner voice could repeat them. Her eyes were on Emo. Captive. She held there for a moment. Barefoot. Still in PJs. Closed her eyes. They opened on his at the end of her blink.

Calmly, she tilted her head a little to one side. "You're gonna wanna be _very_ deliberate and slow with your choice of movements." She stopped all of time, moved across the room to the end of the coffee table opposite him. Restarted.

Took his eyes a second to catch up to where she'd gone. A momentary flash of nervousness. _Good._

He glanced away, back down to Emo, shook his head. "What? I'd never. Please. I'm not a _monster_. We're not… _monsters_ , Max. Neither are you."

"So you guys keep saying…all evidence to the contrary. You're a stranger in our house, holding our kitten. And about three seconds from the inside of a neutron star. Talk."

He cleared his throat. "Andersen. We know you have him. We'd like him back."

"No."

"But, you haven't heard…"

"No."

"But…"

"He's being detained."

"Where?"

"I'd rather not say."

"You released others - why keep him?"

"We're monitoring the ones we didn't hand to the police. And he tried to kill me."

"You can't really blame him for trying?"

"Sure I can."

"I see. Still alive at least?"

"He's fine. I can arrange a visit if you'd like."

"You'd allow us that?"

"Sure." She motioned down to Emo. "Might wanna set him down before he gets fidgety. Claws."

"Oh, of course." He reached over and gently set Emo on the arm of the sofa beside him.

The microscopic black hole growing in the middle of his brain reversed, dissipated.

"Come." She folded them both to the detention facility loading dock. One-hundred-eighty million years in the past, half a mile below the surface of Luna. Bubbled him on landing. Frozen. She wandered off in short, low-G skip-hops to find Margaret or one of the guards. _No more Mario Kart today, guys. Sorry…_

She found Margaret in her office, going over some reports. Max leaned against the doorway, tapped lightly.

"Max! How are you dear?" She swiveled slowly.

"Hey Margaret. I'm good. Any progress with our resident bad guy?"

"Annoyingly, no. It's not even his training. Well, of that sort, anyway. He's apparently becoming one with his empty self, and aside from a few snippets during his more delta moments, there's nothing much new to report. Cookie?" Margaret held out a small plate sitting on her desk.

Max looked, reached, took one. "Thanks. Could use the sugar. Any chance he'll discover enlightenment and want to help us out on his own?" She took a bite. "Mmph. Oh my god this is good."

Margaret held out another. "Fresh. And I really couldn't say. I've gotten a few bits that point to Tibet, but the bio Chloe and Jillian put together says he's been there off and on over the years, so no surprises I suppose."

Between bites, "Well, I might have a present for you. Something to rattle the cage." She shifted her weight slightly, chewing, swallowed, motioned over her shoulder toward the landing zone.

"Oh?"

Max stabilized herself in time. Nodded. A tiny break from her constant micro-jumps. Allowing Margaret to read her.

"Hmmm. And then there were two. Just like that, he shows up. And he held on to your kitty?" Margaret tittered. "They used to be brighter than that."

"I'll take your word for it. I figured you could play with him. Or maybe crash him into Andersen. Whatever. If they know each other, it might catalyze a break in concentration or something to give you a way in. Plus whatever you can get out of the new guy, obviously." Max shrugged. "More names, a wedge into their networks…something."

"This should be interesting." Margaret tapped the holo. Intercom. "Billy, would you mind sending a few of the boys down to the dock? We have a new guest."

A break, game sounds faded, then a voice. "Sure thing. Be right over…"

She turned back to Max. "Next time, you should at least get a name yourself…"

"Yeah, I was mostly all about getting this creep away from Emo and out of our house."

"Well, it was nice of you to leave his arms on. But I'm sure you have more important things to do today, Max. We can take it from here."

"You sure?"

"Where is he going to get to?"

Max nodded. "I'll be back sometime tomorrow anyway. Try to bring you guys some new shows?"

"Thank you, yes, that would be lovely. Tea as well, if you can. We're nearly down to decaf."

Max winced. "Ouch. Sorry."

Margaret stood, moved toward the door. "We'll take care of this. You can run along."

Max chuckled. Margaret was such a grandmother. "Trying to get rid of me? You do realize I'm way older than you, right?" She smiled wide.

Margaret smiled right back. "Yes, well. Some of us age more gracefully than others. I'm speaking of myself, by the way. If you were confused."

Max nodded. "No confusion. Thanks for the cookies. And have fun with your new toy."

"I hope to have something helpful before you return."

"And if not, we still have two verified bad guys in custody. We might have to think about what's next if this trend keeps up."

"I'm sure you'll find a wonderful planet for them, dear."

Max paused. Considered. "You know - that's actually not a terrible idea… Long as they can't multiply." Max gave her a quick familiar hug, waved goodbye, released the bubble back at the dock. Vanished.

Picked Emo off the arm of the sofa and held him to her chest. Gave him a little nuzzle. "Chloe." The building connected her to Chloe's lab.

Her voice sparkled down from the speakers overhead. "Morning sleepyhead. Whassup?"

Max scratched behind Emo's ears. He purred against her softly. "Hey love. Just wanted to let you know that we had a minor security breach this morning…"

"Yeah, I let him break in. Figured there was entertainment value if nothing else…"

"Thought so. Just wanted to make sure. Home tonight?"

"Should be. This is taking a lot of attention; I know - sorry. But I'll hang out with you today too if you want?"

"Cool. Yes, please. I like knowing you're around."

"I'm always around…"

* * *

 **Max** relaxed. Warm sunlight poured over bare shoulders, splashed her shadow out across the large expanse of dark grass. She could easily crash right here, right now. Might have to, after. She sipped at her coffee, keeping an eye on Emo as he jauntily frog-hopped across the green toward the koi ponds and mini-forest taking up the outer half of the wing. _Exploration mode._ Max gave a little wave to the green hummingbird flitting around. Chloe shot over, spun in a quick circle before darting off. _Always on the move_.

She glanced at her phone on the table. Tapped it to check the time. _They'll be here in a few._ This felt like the right place to catch up with Juliet after all these years. Waterfalls. Towering trees. Sunshine and critters. Their serene little indoor homage to the Oregon coast. And more. Better than her office. With all the bad guy notes taped up all over the walls… _There's your real story…_

She had a white circular Saarinen dining table and three matching Bertoia diamond wire chairs set up on the concrete pad, left of center on the lawn, a quarter of the way down the wing. Simple, elegant, classic. Coffee service cart to one side. A little retro-modern neo-futurism to contrast with the captive nature around them. She'd grown to appreciate design over the centuries. Hard to improve on the masters…

Debated jeans and a t-shirt for this, but it felt too same-same. She remembered how Juliet always rocked stylish, even dressing down. She still wanted to keep it simple, nice. So Max opted for a soft white asymmetrical silk drape top, lightweight fitted grey pants with black zips just above the ankle and powder-blue slip-on Vans. No socks. She had her hair back in a pony-tail, blue tips mostly falling behind her, with a few loose strands hanging on the left side of her face. Felt right. Relaxed. Comfortable. Mix of styles that kinda worked together. Light simple makeup, more blues than oranges today.

She looked over, noticed one of the red squirrels on a low branch keeping a wary eye on her fuzzy little interloper, tail twitching. Called out, "Be nice, squirrelios. He'll be bigger than you one day soon…and Emo - friends."

Half daydreaming, she looked up. Took a deep breath. Appreciated the complex scents of fresh coffee and green living things. Moments. Sky and treetops… _Getting close up there._ The terrarium was only supposed to take three floors of the wing, leaving the ceiling about sixty feet above. One below for roots and infrastructure. But as fast as some of these trees were growing, they might need to knock out another floor up there at some point. Add yet another far below ground to make up the difference in workspace. Max scanned the artificial sky. Blended perfectly with the view out the glass walls. Optics on the very top of the building kept the illusion absolutely perfect. Active camo in another form.

 _Home away from home away from home..._ Lids dropped. On the edge of dozing off, she added a little more sugar to her coffee.

Emo chirped as he neared the koi.

Max half turned, lazily, "Hey - don't fall in li'l dude. You're gonna be cold." He stopped at the concrete edge of the pond, bread-loafed, tiny paws curled over the edge, looking down. Tail flipping. No doubt fascinated by the flashes of rippling orange against the dark background below. Plus, sun patch. Warm concrete. Didn't listen to Max, but also didn't fall in. _Kindof a win._

"Chloe, love? Would you mind playing lifeguard while they're here? Shouldn't be long. I know you'll be listening in with one ear anyway?"

A couple of hummingbirds raced by. The yellow one took up a branch above Emo. The green did a quick barrel-roll before rocketing fifty-feet up to the nearest treetop.

"Thanks babe."

* * *

 **John** leaned back as the server topped up his coffee, took another bite of his breakfast sandwich. "Mmph. Thanks".

"Still comin' for a run with me later?" asked Ty, plate full of eggs, bacon and beans.

"Yeah. 3?"

"Yep."

"Wish I could join you guys."

John replied, "It's open invite, Soph. Wait…where are you?"

"Amsterdam. Just started my vacation. It's dinnertime, but I didn't want to eat alone."

"Nice. You could always rent a bike later. It's a beautiful city."

"Thanks, Tyrell. I've been here, but always a day or two at a time only. I love it though. I'm planning to spend some time lurking near university tomorrow. Absorbing. Then I thought I'd sign up for a bike tour in the afternoon. Should be fun. Let me know if anyone wants to ride along. Happy to share."

"The Insta-Sophie-Gram Telepathic VR Experience." John chuckled. "Sounds fun. Hey - I don't know if you saw, but they, uh, outed Alena's identity on one of the cable news shows this morning."

"Oh… I didn't know. Thanks for the memory. Was a matter of time. I'll check in to see how she's doing after we eat."

John wiped his mouth. "That's gotta be weird at that age. Assholes. She's just a kid. Has her dad started yet?"

"Yeah. Last week. We set him up with a studio space on 26b. Product shots, headshots, that sort of thing. He really loves it."

"Okay, cool. Might stop up. See if he wants or needs any help running interference with the press. Speak of the devil…"

Jillian plopped down next to John, granola over yogurt. "Scoot. What did I do now?"

"Hi Jilli."

"Oh, hey Sophie. Aren't you supposed to be out of the country?"

"I am."

John continued, "We were just talking about Alena. Little girl who…"

"Yeah… that sucks. Saw the clip a few minutes ago. Want me to talk to her dad? He's here now, right? Could see if he needs any advice or help?"

Sophie giggled in their heads.

John laughed. "That's what we were talking about when you walked up."

"Of course. Let me know. Um. Side-question John - any idea when we close on Lombard? Legal's not giving me a straight answer. Release is done, but…"

"I heard late next week. Which is good, cause I think the Parker Brigade is looking for somewhere to send up their new anti-grav test drones."

Ty laughed. "You mean crash and explode 'em. Area fuckin' 51, man. Shit's unreal."

"Off limits for me. Little annoyed about that." said Jillian between bites.

Ty chimed in. "Sophie, any truth to the rumor an Agent of Doom dropped in on our fearless leaders this morning?"

"Amsterdam. I can check though."

He laughed. "Wouldn't have wanted to be that dude."

"I heard it was just Max at home. On two nights of no sleep." John toasted the alleged victim with his coffee cup.

"Ouch. _Really_ wouldn't have wanted to be that dude."

"Least Jeremy's happy. Max's hourly billing rate is astronomical."

Sophie laughed. "I see what you did there…"

Jillian looked worried. "Didn't realize she wasn't sleeping. She's got an interview with a couple of Journal reporters starting in a few minutes."

"Why aren't you down there?" asked John.

"Ah. She didn't want any help. She's Max, so… you know. Larsen volunteered to play escort and handle intros. Guess it's slow in ops these days? Anyway, thanks for the breakfast chat. I gotta go chase a few input docs. See you guys later."

"Bye Jilli." said Sophie.

Jillian waved at the rest as she got up to leave.

"Off to the range. North lot at 3, John. Take care Sophie. Let me know if you get bored later."

"Will do. Ciao guys."

"Bye everyone."

* * *

 **Max** startled awake as the elevator at the core dinged.

Tapped at her phone, went holo before they could exit. Paged sideways through a few designs in the air as they walked toward her. Stuff she thought she might show Juliet, depending on where their conversation went.

When they were about twenty feet away, she tapped out of holo-mode, shutting down her phone. Rose up from her chair to meet them at the end of the concrete pad.

Juliet looked just the same. Even her hair. Perfect makeup. Cute clothes. Totally put together. And infuriatingly casual and unconcerned at the same time. It was a talent, for sure.

Next to her, a man she suspected would be most at home reading a real folding newspaper at an outdoor a cafe in Paris. In the 1970's. Possibly in grainy black and white. Probably in the rain.

Leading them over, Hank Larsen in his trademark black suit and skinny black tie… Part time company evangelist and orienteer, part time team precog. Leading edge of the second wave, right after they moved in. Some silly percentage of employees had come through his first day shenanigans, remarkably well adjusted, and with glowing reviews. He was a quiet treasure.

She wasn't sure why he was the one bringing them up though…

"Mrs. Caulfield? Sorry to intrude. I'd like to re-introduce you to Ms. Juliet Watson. And introduce you to Mr. Elliot Portnoi. They're here for the profile piece in the Journal. Ms. Watson, Mr. Portoi, Mrs. Maxine Caulfield, co-founder of MCCP. Regrettably, something unexpected came up and Mrs. Price won't be joining you all today. She sends her apologies and regards. I think Jillian can follow up with any arrangements for voice or video catchup if necessary." He nodded as they sat down. "Okay, I'll leave you all to it. When you're ready to go, I'll be back to escort you down."

"Thanks Hank." said Max. He nodded, turned and walked purposefully toward the elevator.

Max winked at Juliet, shook Elliot's hand before taking her own seat.

Juliet spoke first, inscrutable smile on her face. "Hey Max. Been a while. Wanted to thank you for taking the time to meet with us. I've been told this isn't something you usually do, so it means a lot that you agreed."

Max nodded. Crossed her legs as she leaned forward, refreshed her coffee from the silver press. Motioned to her guests, but they declined. Said softly, "You look great, Juliet. How have you been? New York treating you okay?"

"Thanks, you too. I've been good. Few ups and downs, but full time at Columbia now, still living the dorm life. The internship has been a learning experience. And the city is, I think, about as different from Arcadia Bay as you can get… I'd ask what you've been up to, but I guess that's why we're here. I understand you've set aside about a half hour for us?"

"Yeah, but it's okay if we go a little over. Not like they'll fire me for being late or anything." Max smiled casually.

"Cool. I think the focus overall will be on the company, but for today, our Q&A will be mostly about you, if that makes sense? Sorry we missed Chloe…"

"Sure. I know she was looking forward to this too. But we can start if you'd like."

"Okay. Do you mind if we record the interview? Accuracy. Backup for our notes?"

"No, that's fine."

Juliet set her phone on the table, hit record. "Ok. This is a little weird. Sorry, Max. I feel a little like I'm in two places right now. Like, seeing you again, it's bringing a lot of Blackwell memories back. Stuff I thought I'd forgotten, or…you know. But at the same time, seeing you again, _here_ …" Juliet looked around the terrarium, hands out, "I don't know. It makes me wonder if any of us ever really knew you at all. Like - how did we miss the seeds of all of…this?"

Max nodded. _Shit. She's good. Smooth - right to the heart of it…_

…leaving Max in two places too. In one of them, she hadn't seen Juliet in two and a half years. That's who Juliet saw. In another, it was closer to half a millennium. And it really would be _so much easier_ to answer her question with that context, because then all of this would make perfect sense. Navigating this kind of 'origin' question was among the reasons she didn't personally like to give interviews. She understood the cognitive dissonance, the core WTF of it all. Wasn't sure how she wanted to respond yet, exactly. But it should make sense from the younger perspective. Which was the problem, because it obviously didn't.

 _Let's play it closer to the Max she knew to start. See how it goes._

Max answered, "I'm not sure there was anything to miss, Juliet. I didn't really know myself back then either. Not completely. But that's typical right? Starting senior year, still trying to figure out what we wanna be when we grow up…"

"Or who we want to be?"

"Right."

"Well, I mean, I guess what I'm asking is…you seem like you've changed quite a bit since then. More than just _grown up_ , you know? You and Chloe started this company, what, six months after leaving Arcadia? Is…is that right?

"Yeah…um…" _fuck. …less, but… wrong turn._

Max put on the brakes. Spun back to just after Juliet's original question. Thought for a sec.

Forward.

Max said, "I'm not sure I knew me either back then. Which isn't atypical for our late teens. But there were certainly catalysts that forced some hard growth. In the same week, I reunited with my best friend from childhood, learned that an idolized teacher was a murderous psychopath, and then half the town was killed by a freak storm. Trauma…"

Elliot jumped in, "I'm sorry - with respect, this all sounds like complete nonsense. You were kids. You're still kids. How did you start? Who invested in you? Where did the money come from? Who was your first…"

 _Nope…_ Rewind.

 _Jesus. Attack much?_ _Okay, shit. This…isn't working._

 _Least I know your agenda now…_

The two other big profile-type interviews she'd done, they tripped down this same path, and giving straight answers as though she was YoungMax inevitably led to more challenge and more aggressive lines of questioning. She'd muddled through after what seemed like days, but it was worse here because Juliet actually knew her as she was. And she was smart, so the simple answers really, honestly weren't going to be credible to her. And if Max played young, the contrast would continue to stand out to her co-worker, setting off a second set of alarm bells.

 _Fuck it. I'm too tired for the hours-long multi-rewind trip it's gonna take to get that even close to right…_

She hoped it would go different with Juliet. Softer maybe. Different questions for sure. To be honest, she'd nearly forgotten all about the interview until yesterday. Which was terrible, cause she wanted to see her. _Lot going on. But… they're here. Could still jump back and say no I guess, but… no… Have to do a better job steering is all._

 _Alright. Fine. Playing YoungMax was a mistake. Time for Juliet to meet NowMax I guess… The jump will confuse her, but won't give Elliot anything solid to grab onto. Fewer rewinds for sure… Really hate to do this to you Jules, but…well…there are levels of truth…_

Approach decided, Max hit 'Play'.

* * *

 **Juliet** thought this was a solid place to start. If Max could tell her story, they'd have gone a long way to nailing down some of the gaps - pieces missing from prior articles. At the very least, they'd have something original to work with.

 _She looks so much more present than I remember._

Speaking slowly, Max finally said, "I understand. I think, and it's been a while since I've tried to articulate this, so forgive me if I'm not completely eloquent first try. I think there are inflection points in all of our lives where external events help us realize how tragically, comically small we really are. Cast light on the triviality of our day to day issues and concerns. And remind us how fragile everything we truly value and depend on can be.

"And I guess how powerful we can all be at the same time. Individually and together. I won't try to speak for Chloe in her absence. But for me, the combination of reuniting with my best friend, Jefferson's betrayals of innocence in pursuit of innocence, the destruction of Arcadia Bay, these were all catalysts crashing together in time. There's a bright before and after line that coincides with that one week. Much of our time, Juliet, was on the far side of that line. All of this…is on the other."

Juliet nodded, jotted a few notes, but kept quiet. _Give 'em space, and they'll expand to fill the silence…_

Max continued, "So many things were destroyed. Lives, ideas, expectations of trust and safety. This illusion of power we all have. Any confidence in our own judgements about other people or events… Harsh lessons, too. The reality of choice and sacrifice and consequence. The limits of our control. But there were also affirmations. Confirmation that, even if we don't have control, we have _influence_. And there was also love and hope and joy and forgiveness and healing and discovery and this sort of wonder at life. It all collided then. Forced me to challenge my own assumptions about not only what was most important to me - but what elements of the future are truly within our ability to move or change. 'What if', you know? And examine my own motivations for doing so. Where are the tradeoffs? What roles can other people play? What role should I play? What _future_ do I want? All of… _this_ …is because…well, let's say that whole week was the first real seed."

Juliet captured a few notes, trailed off. "So, how then did that lead you to do something concrete? How did you get _here_? Can you go into that at all? It seems like such a huge leap for the average person."

Max nodded. Took a sip. "Too big a leap for us, for sure. You can't do something like this alone. But we all have a choice about how we use our time. Sometimes, putting ideas or thoughts out to the universe, things come back. Or maybe we're just better at noticing them when we're conscious of what we want. People, opportunities can line up.

"After all of that trauma, survivor's guilt they call it, you know…all we wanted was to make things better. Make it mean something. It took smarter people than us to give shape to what 'better' meant, specifically. So I feel like we've been very fortunate. This company is about other people, far more than it is about us. Inside and out. Everyone here existed somewhere else - but they were disconnected from each other. I think many of them were looking for someplace like this long before we knew we were.

"We met a few of them, early on, sketched the shape of things, borrowed their networks, and it's like gravity a little. A small group and an idea attracts a few more people, who draw in more and so on. Until you reach this sort of critical mass, where, you know…I think this is certainly so far beyond what we thought was likely or even possible.

"But we've done our best to keep it simple. My main focus has been working to convince more people that more problems belong in the 'solvable' column."

 _Quotable, but still not a complete answer…_ Skeptically, Juliet asked, "Don't take this the wrong way, but you know…generations of people have said these kinds of things before. Why do you think anyone listened to you?"

"I think they were looking for someone to tell them that it's okay, you know? To worry about the big things. To have the courage to try. And that's ongoing. We all influence the future, partly through what we do, and partly in the way we behave. Both influence other people. Positive or negative. Small things. These…" Max gently touched the butterflies tattooed on her arm, "are a reminder of that for me. Chaos theory. Butterfly wings to hurricanes. It's about how we brush up against each other. Which can be vastly more powerful as part of a chain reaction. How our attentions and intentions affect someone else in that moment, reinforcing or changing their immediate course, further affecting how they touch others and so on. Network effects. Everything - moods, road rage, kind acts, petty cruelties, patience, online rants, support, listening, indifference, love, hate, whatever.

"We, each of us, change the world every day. By adding or subtracting to other people, and changing their courses a little. We're all in these little bubbles, reacting to each other. Adding all of that up, collectively, we choose the shape of this world in a pretty direct way... But mostly unconsciously.

"We _can_ choose better. More intentionally. And do more to take on the root causes of all of our troubles more directly. And these are the kinds of challenges - and real opportunity to make an impact - our friends and co-workers were drawn to. We didn't tell them anything new, but _we believed in them_. In a way, we all convinced each other it was possible.

"So, take all of that a step further, and apply it to earth more broadly. How we treat each other. What we fight over. The messes we make of each other's lives when we're fearful - what we take from the world, and what we leave behind. It helps to understand all of that, because a lot of our problems are structural, and related to very basic needs. Roots. People don't usually fight over food when they all have more than enough, with even more on the way. We've been fairly inconsiderate stewards of this rare planet we find ourselves on. And terribly unkind to each other historically.

"It's obvious to everyone there has to be a better way. But we can't take on the millions of symptoms. It doesn't scale. It's why a lot of our work is aimed at the underlying causes. Big hairy problems. Because if you can crack those, people have the space to take better care of each other - and these symptoms diminish substantially as a result."

Juliet joined a few lines on paper, attempting to wrap her head around it all. Distracted by the disconnect between her memories of Max and the reality of the woman sitting opposite her…

Before she could ask a follow-up, Elliot jumped in. "That's…those are…good answers. Too long maybe. And not answers to _her_ questions exactly, but… Yours was a little more generic corporate bullshit idealism than I expected. Helping others, making the world better. Blah blah. PR spin. Doesn't sound unpracticed at all, for what it's worth. But let's say you believe it or whatever. That's your flag. I could buy that.

"But I've been in hundreds of executive interviews. None has stunned me quite like this. How does that…unsophisticated pablum so quickly decay into such a grotesquely hypocritical display of excess as we find ourselves meeting in today?" He waved a hand toward the indoor forest. "How can you be so completely tone deaf to your own message? Most successful people have maybe a lavish boardroom or they go to a conference room or their desk for this sort of thing. But you, you have a magical corporate play-forest in the sky, bigger than a football field. This is _pure_ childhood indulgence. I'm in awe at the waste and vanity of it all…"

Juliet froze. Felt the color drain out of her face as the interview derailed before her eyes.

 _Are you fucking kidding me?_

* * *

 **Chloe** hovered over Emo, waited for him to climb up. Their little game of tag. Keeping him occupied while Max did her thing. And hopefully wearing him out so he'd sleep tonight.

He was quick for a kitten. Enhanced. Jumped a few feet up to the next branch, then the next. All strength, no weight. Still working on coordination.

She moved over to another tree. He hesitated, eyes dilated, butt wiggling. Made the leap. Like a flying squirrel with sharp claws, limb to limb. Caught, pulled himself up, chasing Chloe back to the next trunk. She zoomed around to the other side, out into open air, then dove for the underbrush far below. He hesitated again before dropping head-first to a series of lower beaches, eventually leaping straight to the ground, disappearing after Chloe through the rustling leaves…

* * *

 **Max** was punchy from lack of sleep. Couldn't help but laugh at his line of attack. This was too good to rewind… "Man… I'm sorry for laughing. But…wow. Elliot, is it? You really are kindof up your own ass, aren't you?"

Juliet was straight-up deer in headlights. While his expression wavered somewhere between residual disgust and mild amusement.

Max leaned back slowly. Patiently, she said, "It's okay, rhetorical… I can pick through that biased mess to find the spirit of your question.

"Where you see a wasteful indoor luxury park in a towering glass monument in the desert, I see a testbed. All water here is recovered and recycled. The entire floor is tied into the building's heating and cooling cycles. The glass walls - designed to filter and control wavelengths of light for best nutritive growth and temperature. The building itself is constructed from sustainable meta-materials to take the structural load, runs entirely on clean fusion power. One of only fifteen in the world. All of them ours. Everyone's soon enough.

"This volume we're in is a scaled microcosm for some of the cylindrical orbital habitat designs we've been working on. In this room alone, we have eight varieties of trees, six types of grasses, five species of fish, a family of red squirrels, a mix of bushes, shrubs and ground cover, three beehives, millions of worms, spiders and insects, and ten subspecies of fungus and algae. Plus a few opportunistic volunteers that found their way in.

"Every plant you see has been extinct for more than twenty-thousand years. Some far longer. We printed their DNA, brought them back to life. Here. From fragments. And now we're testing growth rates, oxygenation, waste volumes, transgenic susceptibility, medicinal potential, carbon density and locking, disease resistance, compatibility with existing bio-forms, and the list goes on. Turns out, one of these species of tree sequesters 20% more carbon and produces 21% more oxygen than any of its living relatives.

"We're an applied sciences company, Mr. Portnoi. This 'display of excess' is one of our active laboratories.

"That it's also pretty is beside the point… But…since it can be both, why not? Good design, beauty have a measurable impact on happiness and well-being too. If some of us are going to live in environments like this off-world someday, we need to ensure that everything balances - that all of our needs are met. You maybe shouldn't be so quick to believe everything you think…"

Juliet choked a little, eyes darting between Elliot and Max.

He looked up, then down.

Back to her.

Exhaled. "Okay. Please forgive me, Mrs. Caulfield. I'm a cynic. And somewhat serially unimpressed by material symbols of success. I've seen firsthand how few people have anything to do with their own, and how often the results are…abused. I've misread."

Max leaned forward, elbow on the table, chin on her hand. "Let's move on." she offered graciously.

For the bulk of the interview, he was somewhat better behaved. Kept interrupting Juliet though. Tried to go back to their original investors or sources of funding a couple of times, but she rewound and redirected around those. He never got a chance to ask out loud in the final timeline. Beyond that, they covered a lot of ground in a wide-ranging Q&A, Max taking pains to bring most things back to the company and the mission and their employees.

Which wasn't hard, since she couldn't really reveal much about herself or Chloe that wouldn't immediately become the headline.

Although appending each answer in her head with _'…and I also control time and space and junk, and Chloe is like super-hot.'_ helped get her through most of his grilling with a smile.

They were down to the last few minutes when questions circled back to her once again.

Elliot leaned forward, asked, "So I'm wondering - how do you respond to the wide variety of fringe content about you and your company on the Internet. I'm just curious if you keep up with any of that? Some is quite outlandish. Why do you think so many have focused on you in this way?"

"I really don't have an opinion." Max shrugged dismissively. "I, uh, have a distaste for sensationalism in general, so don't pay much attention to the echo chamber. I mean, look at literally any meme over the last few years - who can say why some notions catch and take on a life of their own? I'm not sure it has much of anything to do with us at this point, really. It's fun for people, and it's the internet, so what are you really going to do? Hasn't harmed us, but doesn't propel us forward either so, I don't personally take much interest."

Elliot nodded. "So we come full circle. You've so rarely given interviews. You must certainly feel the same way about the press then?"

"Well, 'the press' is such a broad term. There are so many aspects and exceptions and…so many smart people doing really important work - it's difficult to generalize in the US, much less globally. So much diversity. But more broadly, if we're talking about media _culture_ in general, I think we're heading in an unhelpful direction. It's partly the structure. Outliers are what make news, and those are often bad. So what happens is that exceptional events are presented as the median when taken in aggregate. And the day to day norms and slow major movements of history in the background are too often missed. That dramatic over-amplification gives a really distorted picture of reality.

"It doesn't help us. The focus of most editorial isn't intended to provide a balanced view of the world. Which is unfortunately something we all need in order to understand the truth and make thoughtful, informed decisions about our lives and our futures together on this marble. Beyond. When all someone sees is sensationalized point events and negativity, two things happen. First, they become desensitized to actual threats. To the point where they can't distinguish real problems from hyped ones, or understand the relative scale or priority needed to assign an appropriate level of risk… As a result, they become overwhelmed, lose hope in any sense of personal agency or control over problems beyond arm's reach. Disengage, focus on the wrong things, or cede control to others completely, which is dangerously open to abuse. Then there's filter bubbles and us vs. them narratives and bias and chasing eyeballs and all the rest. Further dividing people. None of it benefits the world long term if we continue down this path.

"Our global problems are very real, mostly caused by us. We _have_ to be part of the solutions. And those solutions can be complex - but they aren't beyond our capabilities to identify, understand and solve. We're a flawed but truly amazing species. Smart, social, creative. Earth should be a paradise, and we should be out among the stars by now. There's no reason we can't. But you never see that reflected in the media's presentation of reality. Goes back to what I said earlier about the way we add to or subtract from each other. Modern media culture hits a lot more people at once, so has an outsized influence. And maybe more responsibility to try to get the balance right."

He leaned back, "Maybe you should buy a media company then? If you're such an optimist in spite of us? Is that what you do here? The influence on your company's direction?"

"Yeah…I hadn't given that much thought, but…maybe we should. And I wouldn't be here if I wasn't an optimist. If I didn't believe in people, or the real potential of what we can all be or do. Or understand the horrors we can inflict when the worst in us rules. But, certainly it's easier for me to maintain that optimism, given my frame of reference. People around here back it up every single day. They actualize hope. That's been so incredible. If we've done anything right, it's been to listen and provide an operational support structure where the real experts and teams can meet, work and flourish. I think our direction is ultimately influenced by the needs of reality, and our people self-assemble around those.

"So rounding out your original question on the press, no, I don't personally give a lot of interviews. We're all mostly heads-down trying to solve the big problems. And ultimately I think what we do and how that affects people and the future matters a hell of a lot more than anything I could say to you about myself."

Juliet, still writing, appeared troubled.

Elliot brought it to a close. "Alright, I think that's all the time we need to take for now. Thank you. We'll be in touch with your PR team for the rest. I think we'd like to interview a few employees and maybe partners or customers if we might over the next week - phone or video is okay, and if we have any follow-up questions for you, may we reach out directly?"

"Probably through Jillian is best. My schedule's all over the place."

Like clockwork, the elevator dinged. Hank sauntered across the lawn to escort them back down.

Max wasn't sad to see Elliot go. Persistently unpleasant dude. Already heading to the elevator.

She gave Juliet a hug as they said their goodbyes.

"Max…I'm so sorry. This isn't how…"

"Oh, it's okay, Juliet. I figured it would go about like this. He's fine. And believe me, I've faced a lot worse. I just hope this helps you. Sincerely. That was the only reason I said yes."

"Okay… And thanks. Sorry. But it was great to see you. I'm…even more in awe of all of this after… Be in touch?"

"Yeah. Chloe and I both would love to catch up with you personally. Let's talk later on that?" Max gave her a final hug before Juliet left to catch up with the others. She really did want to invite her out for dinner tonight, but was so wicked tired. And Chloe was singularly focused on her machine. _Another time. Maybe we could all meet up in New York in a few weeks. See a show, catch dinner?_

She quickly replayed the last half hour in her head, seeing if there was anything obvious she'd fucked up, anything she'd want to quickly rewind to change before they got too far behind. Nothing stood out. Wasn't great, wasn't terrible. That half-hour interview had taken a couple of Max-hours, but it was still better than a full day. Could always spring back later if she needed to.

The elevator doors closed.

The sun was higher now, still warm.

Her eyes shut for a second.

And another…

 _So comfortable in here._

 _I have time for a quick nap._

She stretched, closed her eyes.

Stopped fighting.

A blanket of light warmed her skin.

She quickly floated off to sleep.

About four inches above the grass.

* * *

 **Juliet** clicked a few steps into the bright lobby, half-turned to wait. She wanted more than anything to head back up, apologize again. Really catch up and hang out without all the bullshit. This didn't go how she wanted _at all_. It was supposed to be a fun little first interview. One of many, if she'd played it right. Build trust over time… _Fucking Elliot…_

In spite of the rough start he created, Max was far more thoughtful, eloquent and graceful under fire than Juliet would have ever thought possible. _Jesus, she really did come out of her shell… Elegance. Gravitas. Intellect. Obviously her, but she's almost completely unrecognizable… which…makes even less sense?_

Elliot caught up, brushed past her, continued through the crowd toward the exit.

Their escort trailed behind.

She rolled her eyes, went to follow.

"Excuse me, Ms. Watson. Before you go? A word?" She stopped, turned. Elliot looked back. Hank leaned around Juliet, shrugged at Elliot. "It's a…social thing… only need her for a sec."

Elliot kept walking.

 _Maybe I'll get a chance to…_

"It's not a social thing." he said quietly. "Boss doesn't even know I'm talking to you. I only said that so he wouldn't stop. Is it just me, or does that guy seem, I don't know, a little grouchy?"

Juliet laughed. "Definitely not you. I only met him this morning and I'm already regretting it. What's this about then?"

"Before you go, I'll try to say something charming and funny. You'll try to laugh, we'll shake hands, where I'll pass you a small memory drive. I can't tell you what's on it. But it's very important that you keep it with you, and don't tell anyone you have it."

"What's this about? What's on it?"

"I just said…well, I can't, cause I honestly don't know. But it's important that you have it. Its encrypted, date-locked, so you won't be able to access it until it's time."

"You want me to hold onto it…I'm sorry - when is that then?"

"I don't have that information. I know this is confusing, and I'm sorry. I imagine you'll know. That's all I can say without making us stand here longer. Awkward, right? Like I said, the boss doesn't know, and we're on camera, so please don't get me in trouble?"

Now employees were passing her shit? _Some sort of whistleblower, or…?_ Hesitant, she said, "Look, I'm not sure how I feel about this."

"Believe me, I understand. Same. Now laugh like I said something funny."

Juliet smiled, chuckled a little, unsure.

He smiled warmly, "Close enough. It was really lovely to meet you, please do come back again." She withdrew her hand; felt the drive he'd palmed off to her. Said goodbye, turned to follow Elliot. She slid the drive into her purse as she reached in for sunglasses.

 _Okay, seriously? What the hell?_

* * *

 **Juliet** pulled the door handle. Locked. He was inside, looking right fucking at her. Hands out, _WTF dude?_

He paused, then absently unlocked her door.

"What did he want? Did she invite you back later for dinner or something?" he asked as she took her seat.

"No… Actually…he, uh, asked me out on a date." she lied.

Elliot shrugged. "Inside source. Take one for the team?"

She shook her head, looked away, disgusted. Wasn't sure what she'd expected.

"How do you think that went?" Elliot asked neutrally.

"Oh, you don't want to know what I think." Juliet fumed. "No, but you know what? Fuck it. I'm gonna tell you anyway. Cause that was embarrassing. I was actually embarrassed. For me. For you. For her. You were rude, unnecessarily adversarial, you interrupted when she tried to answer questions, interrupted me like I wasn't even in the room, and generally behaved in a completely unprofessional manner. Blew any chance of coming back. You know, I don't even care if I get fired for saying this. She didn't have to meet with us. She didn't have an agenda. We asked her. _I asked her._ And that's how you treated her. Fuck. No wonder she doesn't talk to media…"

Elliot shifted a little. "Okay. That's a point of view. I have a different one if you'd like to hear it. Eh. Doesn't really matter - I'll tell you anyway. I'm the professional. Anything I do is in a professional manner, by definition. Stole that from Nick Offerman. I told you this morning how this would go and what I was going to do. I know you're new, but it's not my fault if you're not paying attention, kid.

"She expected me to take over the interview, and she was prepared for uncomfortable questions. So I pushed hard on a weak hand early, and I was just hoping she didn't end it right then. I didn't think she would with you there. But it gave her a chance to humble me in her eyes. To take a win. That's what I wanted. People are much more forthcoming when they feel they have the upper hand. It's when the egoists like to boast. The minute they think you're subordinate, that you work for them, or that you're in your place, you see who they really are. Like that old thing, when you go out on a date, watch how your partner treats the wait-staff… It's pretty accurate."

"You did it on purpose."

"Obviously. They were just trees - I didn't really give a shit. Everybody has a playbook. Taking people in positions of authority off their script is almost always hard. It's _the job_ a lot of the time. Whole industries train these politicians and corporate execs to navigate interviews. What to say, how to say it, how to change the subject without looking like it, to stay in control of the meeting and the message. They practice. Hundreds of thousands of dollars of coaching are sitting between you and the truth. You have to learn your own ways around that. Or you can become a note taker. Just another mouthpiece echoing their manufactured talking points. If that's all you learn today, you're ahead of most."

"But…she's Max. You didn't have to do any of that… Not that way."

"I don't know. Set your anger at me aside for a sec. What was the actual content we took away from the interview? She didn't take the bait… And try as I might, she didn't leave me any space to ask her about early days, funding, anything. That's not accidental. Look, here's the issue I'm having with all of this. We went there to learn more about Max Caulfield. It's a goddamn profile piece, and we couldn't get her to talk about herself at all. _At all._ And then we left. How did we let that happen?"

"Is that unusual? Like, literally one minute ago, you lectured me about how trained and prepared and coached they are."

"Sure. Talking about customers, or financials or whatever crisis is happening. But ask them about themselves and you can't shut them up. It's one thing they all have in common. They LOVE to talk about themselves. What school they went to, how smart they are, who they know, how long their boat is, what kind of car they drive to work, what they do in their free time, all of it. There was a study a few years back. Sociopaths and narcissists are disproportionately drawn to these kinds of leadership positions."

"Max Caulfield isn't a sociopath. So she didn't talk about herself - I told you before she was pretty much a textbook introvert."

"Maybe. But look at the answers. Look at the diversions. Listen to what she didn't say. Check your notes and the tape. Every answer came back to 'why'. Not once did she answer 'how' or 'what'.

Juliet stretched her neck. "Yeah, okay, so…what now? Whatever. How do we take this forward?"

"I'm still trying to figure out which one of you two is full of shit."

Juliet, frustrated, "What?"

"Be honest. Did you really know her? Nothing you told me this morning makes any sense now that I've met her myself."

"Of course I did. I mean, she's obviously changed…but…"

"I'm hoping you were exaggerating. People don't become other people. Not that completely or quickly. Not without clinical brain trauma. And that usually goes in the other direction. It would have been easier for me if you hadn't briefed me at all. I would have taken her at face value and moved on. She reminded me, actually, of this British heiress I interviewed in Monaco a few years ago. Cambridge educated, mid-40's, everything about her was informed by this sort of air of benevolent aristocracy. Throw in a cross-section of futurist TED talks, and she wasn't so different from Max's performance today. Presentation layer, I mean. Educated, measured, visionary, patient to the point of indulgence. Even down to her movements. I'm confident that she's sincere about everything she said up there. And it's a bit of a problem for me, because despite my pushback in the room, there wasn't much I could find to disagree with."

"Wait, so you're pissed cause you went to all that trouble, and she is what she seems to be, and told you things you agreed with? There's a 'but' coming?"

"A big 'but'. It doesn't add up. I'm good, and we just got railroaded out of there. It's what we didn't get to ask. It's what she didn't say. There was impression, but no information. And what we have is contradictory. And the woman in there doesn't square at all with the girl _you_ described. She's only your age, and it reinforces my gut feeling that something's off. You're one of the few people who knew her as you described her. Without that insight, I probably would have ignored that feeling. But… Makes less sense to me now than it did before.

"All the corporate materials, the web site, the only two interviews with her I could find, and we had her for half an hour ourselves - and we didn't learn a damn thing about her. It's right back to our prep talk this morning. What does she do there? Mechanically, I mean. What is her actual job? What's her value? Specialty? Where was Price? They're worth more zeroes than I can easily write across a napkin. But where does it come from? They're private, so we can't see the financials, but I talked to a few people before I left, and it seems like they give away more than they charge for. Anecdotal, but…okay. So MCCP day one - where does the seed capital come from? And how did they grow into this? Who's the first person they hired? What did they do all day in the beginning? Who was their first paying customer and what did they buy? Is anything they're selling real? Or is this whole thing a giant investor scam? Right? Is it just me?"

Juliet sighed. "As much as I hate to admit this... no. Our time in there didn't answer any of the questions we talked about this morning. I think her Q&A certainly promoted a vision. She has that down, and maybe that's her value... Plays shepherd to people doing the real work. But you're right. She never actually said anything concrete… Bugs me. And if I'm being honest, I'm not at all satisfied with that interview. There's a story here, and…well, we didn't get it."

"Okay. Me too. I'm at a loss to understand. And I'm not sure where to go from here yet."

"We talk to more people. Keep digging. Right? Keep asking questions. If she won't say, maybe someone else will. That's how this works? I hate this, because I like her, and…shit, what she's saying is inspirational in a way…but yeah. You're right. Something's still missing."

He stared out the front window. Finally said, "That's the right instinct." Started the car.

It was the closest thing to a maybe-compliment he'd said to her all day.

He added, "I have some outside sources who offered to talk. I didn't have time to connect with them en route, so that's one thing for me. But we'll see what we get out of the other interviews with insiders this week. Time to start digging."

Juliet nodded, absently traced the outline of the thumb drive in the side of her purse.

* * *

 **Chloe** flew down from the treetops. Perched on the back of one of the white wire chairs, watching over Max.

The way the light passed through the silk, sending half-shadows and glows across her body… the slight parting of her lips with each breath… her expression so relaxed, peaceful in sleep…

Levitation thing was cool. Chloe flew under her a few times to see if she'd wake up, but she was out cold. Didn't even stir when Emo hopped up onto her belly, exhausted, stretching out lengthwise to fall asleep on her in the sun. _Too fucking cute though._

She shifted focus. Back to where she was.

Bots and techs worked tightly together on the fabricator taking shape on the other side of the lab. Part of the first sphere and several of the articulating arms that would eventually be rolled out of this three-dimensional space into another level of 'otherwhere'. It wasn't nowhere but…it wasn't here exactly, either. Name came courtesy of the memory cube. Worked as an easy shorthand for any of the higher spaces beyond spaces.

She zoomed in to the microscopic. Nanobots tended the growth of the control system as much as they were aiding in its assembly… Synthetic organics. Some of them would go along for the ride - rebuild themselves in newly opened directions first. Most of the machine would be constructed on the other side anyway.

It would take exceptionally complex high-precision manipulations across six dimensions to undo the damage their future selves had done to the artifact in five, hopefully locking it back to the correct position in the end.

They were all just getting started.

Emo stretched. Curled halfway upside down, chin to the sky, reaching toward Max's face with tiny bean toes.

Chloe smiled as he snored a little. More than a little jealous.


	12. Alight in the dark

**Jacob** picked up the handset. "Yes?"

"Mr. Wallace, Ted Granger."

Jacob leaned forward, straining to hear his voice over the dull thrum of the jet engines, "You have an update?"

"Yes sir. Our sources inside a number of the leading US houses have confirmed that their man, Gabriel, made contact with her seventeen hours ago. But they've heard no word from him since."

He looked out the large window to the Italian countryside passing below. "What are the odds he's still in there?"

"…" Ted's voice faded.

"Wait just one moment if you would?" Jacob pulled the headset away, angled his head to focus, fidgeted for the volume control, clicked it up before returning the phone to his ear. "Would you mind repeating your last?"

"I said that seems unlikely to our own analysts. Our sources say he had a rather robust tracking system on him. Multiple units. But they all went dark at once, shortly after he made a covert entry to their residence."

"Not unexpected. Although I'm curious, Ted. That seems like rather optimistic phrasing. About his entry?"

"That's our consensus down here as well. We're pulling 'covert' directly from their quotes. But that seems doubtful for the obvious reasons."

"Independently, where do we think their man's gotten off to?" He wiped at fingerprints on the lacquered walnut armrest, only smearing them.

"There's no anonymous access to airspace, or solid video control of the Vegas metro area these days, but he hasn't shown up outside that grid either. We were able to pull the frequencies, did our own quiet sweep using the global nets, but nothing. Our leading theory is that his tracking units were discovered and disabled. They've probably moved him to wherever they move people."

"Trailing theories?"

"Usual caveats and disclaimers apply, but if the trackers are intact, 'not presently on the land-surface of the earth' covers all three competing secondaries pretty well. Which may not be mutually exclusive with the prevailing, for what it's worth."

Jacob nodded. "Indeed. Any help from the seekers?"

"Same problem we had with Andersen. Art's not helpful. Would make sense that they could be co-located by now. So whatever's causing the disruption might be shared. Last note, there's some chatter within the broader North American tiers that a few small sections of the US network are possibly at risk of compromise. Andersen and Gabriel have been trained in resistance, but you know there's a clock. One that passed weeks ago for Andersen."

"Thanks, Ted. Please do keep me informed if there are any material changes. For the rest, it hardly matters. I'm less concerned about the welfare and security of their network. Compartmentalization exists for a reason. And if we do this next part right, she'll see it all anyway. If not, well, it will be more difficult for high profile individuals to change identities, but they understood the risks."

"We're updating models, but our take, the worst case is less than .7% within the US system at play. A handful of legislators at national, some lower tiers with public profile. Everything else is elastic."

"They'll recover. Thanks again, Ted."

"Take care, Mr. Wallace. Safe travels."

Jacob replaced the handset in the cradle.

Considered.

 _Give them a day._

* * *

 **Chloe** kneeled. Slowly, carefully, she brushed the loose strands from Max's eyes. Fingertips nearly touching skin.

House lights were dim, set to a sort of low sunset orange. Living room TV was on, but muted, pulsing blue light and shadows between the walls and glass. The part of Chloe that was the building reached out, killed power to the screen, calming the room.

Max's eyelids parted, found Chloe's gaze. She brightened. Breathed softly, "Hey."

Chloe touched her lips to Max's forehead, eyes closed, whispered, "Hey, doll. Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you. Shhh. Go back to sleep." Her hair held traces of lavender scent, but Chloe tasted cinnamon on Max's skin for some reason.

Max arched up off the sofa, stretching her back. Squinched her face. "Ehhhn. No, it's okay. I'm glad." She yawned, "Emo was holding me down earlier. I was defenseless against the cute." Max pushed herself up on one elbow.

Chloe leaned in for a kiss. "I know that feeling. Mm. Missed you."

"Me too." Max's free hand slid behind Chloe's neck as she returned her kiss. Pushed and pulled herself all the way up, locking her other arm behind like a kickstand. "Thanks for hanging out with me today though. You make a really cute bird. Birds."

Chloe nudged. "Yesterday. And _you're_ a cute bird. Dork."

Max made a face. "You're a…dork. …cute…bird?" Cracked herself up, eyes down. Batted them as she found Chloe's again, hair fell forward, hiding half her face.

 _God, she's so Max right now…_ Chloe laughed, shook her head. "Uh-huh. You eat?"

Max let herself fall back, pulled Chloe over her. "Uh-uh. Not yet. Wanted to wait for you." Gave her another kiss.

Chloe whispered, "Didn't have to, but that's sweet. Um, maybe we can go out? If you're feeling up to it? Super late though."

"It's early somewhere. I'd like that; it's been a little while." Max continued with soft little kisses to Chloe's face and neck.

"I know. Sorry."

Max paused, met her eyes from a breath away, "It's okay. Date night, midnight edition? What are you in the mood for?"

Chloe thought for a moment. "Hmm. Maybe that cute little noodle place in Kyoto? By the water? If you don't mind driving?"

"No, it's cool. They're super yummy. Here. Off." Max pushed at Chloe without conviction, failed. "Ehn. Lemmie go change. Less you wanna come help?" she added with mischief in her voice.

Chloe reluctantly pulled herself off Max. "Tempted as I am, I…really need to eat something. And if I 'help', we won't. Revisit when we get back?"

Max considered. "I accept your conditional surrender…"

* * *

 **Juliet** finally had her room to herself.

Elliot retreated to his own a few minutes ago, leaving her to organize her notes from this morning. It was late. Her face reflected harshly in the window overlooking the artificial lake and fountains of the Bellagio. Unflattering, disembodied; cold blue notebook glow. She stared into her own eyes, defocused.

Conflicted.

Told herself she'd struggled with the decision. Using her connection to Max to put herself at the head of the line. But she knew it wasn't really true. Once the idea came up, she didn't hesitate. But now that it was real, she wasn't sure she liked what that said about her.

 _Using Max while the paper uses me to get to Max…_

 _We're all assholes, aren't we?_

 _Come on. Be honest though…_

 _How jealous are you?_

 _Thought so._

The air unit on the wall kicked to life, loud, annoying.

Wasn't even warm. Just moved room temperature air around.

 _They came out like it never happened._

 _Advantage of not making any real friends, I guess. No one to…_

 _No…that's so not fair._

 _Not their fault Zach…Dana…didn't…_

 _Shit…_

Remembering faces. A laugh. Two.

… _thought I was past this._

She looked away.

 _Dammit._

 _I miss you, guys._

 _We would have lit the city up…_

She looked out, past herself. Watched the lights play through the fountains for a few minutes.

Turned worn thoughts over in her head.

 _They had each other. That's why…_

 _Okay, come back. So is it wrong to be curious about the truth? The real story?_

 _Even if it ends up hurting them?_

 _I mean…I know she's not a sociopath or a scammer or whatever Elliot's thinking…_

 _Then what is it?_

 _There's no way. I mean, come on. Shy little Max. Right._

 _That was a cute blouse though…_

 _If there's nothing weird, there won't be anything to find._

 _Okay, but back to the beginning._

 _Back to the money._

 _Ugh._

 _Fuck you, dude._

 _Putting your stupid cynical paranoid bullshit into my head._

 _But you know he's right._

 _Yeah, but…what if this turns into a real expose?_

 _It's not what I intended…_

 _Well, which is important?_

 _Being a real journalist…or the feelings of an old acquaintance who…never quite crossed the line to friend…_

 _That's…harsh._

 _True._

 _Different circles was all._

 _You're just tired._

 _Crabby._

 _She was nice today._

 _Not some master manipulator._

 _But…it still has to be about the story, right?_

 _That's the north star._

 _It has to mean something…_

 _Not personal._

 _Maybe it should be?_

 _How many of us are left?_

 _I don't…I don't know…_

Back and forth. No winners in her head.

Too late.

She went to close her notebook. Remembered the drive.

Fished it out of the side pocket of her purse.

 _Seriously though, who was that guy? He said it was encrypted, but he didn't even know what was on it?_

 _Why? Who wanted me to have it then?_

 _What the hell's on this thing?_

She turned it over in her hands. Light. Blocky. Just a cheap plastic thumb-drive.

Plugged it in.

 _::_ _Device not recognized._

 _Of course._

 _That would be way too easy, Jules…_

 _Maybe Alex could help?_

 _Once I'm back on campus…_

* * *

 **Chloe** took a swig of her Asahi. Late morning, local time. The shop had only just opened, but their food was already on the way. She thanked the server in Japanese. Another language they shared in common. Truth be told, Chloe knew all of them now, and made up a few of her own, but this was another one Max knew too. Even if Max had to learn all of hers the hard way.

They shared a small dark table up against the front window, across the street from the lake.

Max sipped at her steaming tea, continued in Japanese. "How's the thingy downstairs coming along?"

"It's still pretty early in the process. It's delicate, super fuckin' complicated, but…there's some autopilot time too. Don't worry, I'll…get it done." Chloe spoke a little too sharply, frowned, looked outside through the blur of passing cars to the water. It was too grey out there. She hoped for sun.

Max leaned in, touched Chloe's fingertips across the table. "Hey, I know, babe. I only meant…"

Chloe looked back, pulled her hand out from under, placed it back on top of Max's. "Sorry. Sorry. That was me, not you."

"It's okay. Here. Noodles ahoy." Max leaned back as giant wooden bowls of ramen found a home on the table.

Chloe thanked the server again. Turned back to Max. "Thanks. I mean, you know…"

"Yeah… It's okay, Chlo. It's just us."

Chloe nodded, scooped up a knot of hot noodles with her chopsticks, shoved them in her mouth, crossed her eyes and made a fish-face at Max as she sucked in the end of the noodle.

"Goofball. But seriously. I feel like we haven't talked in days. Like, how are you holding up in there? Really?"

Chloe took a second to chew. Shrugged. "Bout the same I guess. Trying to stay busy. I mean…sooner I get that shit fixed, sooner we'll have a better picture of what's what, right? So…"

Max made a sad-face. "Yeah…but you still have to take care of you." Half-shrugged herself, "I mean, we don't know who, what, why, the timescales involved, nothing. Right? I mean, we could have millions of years before this is even a thing we have to worry about… And we don't even know what that means. Space is…well, big, I guess."

"No, we talked about this…I know. I know… This is um, just how I'm trying to deal right now. You know? I trust you, duh, obviously. And I trust whatever future versions of us left all this shit behind… But that's part of what worries me too. Why here? Why now? Like, if this is millions of years away, why drop it on us now? We don't do things without a reason, Max. We're gonna spend at least two years in the past setting this up at some future point…like, I just…I feel a legit sense of urgency to get this shit going. There's way too much uncertainty."

Max rested her elbows on the table. Poked at a radish. "That's fair. But you're right. We _don't_ know the reason why we did it this way. But it doesn't mean there's an immediate threat. You wouldn't have held information back from yourself if that was true. Shit - if that was true, we probably would have dumped all the info we could a couple of years back…"

"Maybe. But you know how twitchy fucking with time can really be. We still don't even have a master ID list for _them._ I mean, that totally bugs, but there must be a good reason still, right? Even if we don't know what it is? But for now, all it means is that _we don't know._ "

"Yeah… I get it. But maybe it's just not time yet…" Max took a sip. "So you've said there's downtime too though, right? Are you taking a break down there at all? Do I need to come fuss over you? I could bring you a sack lunch tomorrow or something if you want? Blanket… We could have a little lab picnic?"

Chloe thought about it. "That's…actually that would be nice. Could just show you what we're doing then. But I'm not really chillin' on the side or anything, you know, it's busy… The build team is helping with a lot of the setup and macro stuff, I'm translating designs, monitoring all my little gooey grey minions as they do the bulk of the micro-scale work. Which grows to be the macro. But I've, uh, picked up an old project on the side for the downtime. Back-bench in the lab. Idle hands…"

Max slurped, "Okay, tell me about it?"

Chloe shook her head, "It's stupid, dude. Something I started a while ago. I'll show you when we head back if you want. But…I kinda went through this period where, you know, you'd be out doing your SuperMax thing, changing the most fucked up parts of the news and stuff… I'd be home, watching what they replaced it with - which wasn't ever any better, really. Different shit than what you said happened before you changed things. But still…shit. It's like no matter what you fix, they never run outta bad news."

Max nodded, slurped a long noodle, flinging soup back at her face.

Chloe reached over, dabbed at Max's cheek with a napkin. Continued, "Just once, I'd like to hear 'em say 'and since nothing bad happened today, there's no news. Here. Have a live feed of some frolicking puppies for the next week instead.'"

Max snorked. "I'd totally watch the shit out of that."

Chloe agreed with a nod and a shrug. "Yeah…anyway. Guess I started out of frustration last summer. After watching one goddamn war zone on TV fade to the next… The really big stuff. They never show the idiots fighting. It's always like these abstract bodies of civilians left behind. Frantic people trying to dig their families out of all this fucking rubble with their bare hands… Look, I know it was OtherChloe and not me, but all that shit you guys went through still feels real to me too. You know? Being on that side of it, I mean. I remember how helpless you both felt at certain points over there. And, I don't know… Rubble is just like this kind of universal symbol of ultra-shitty human behavior to me now. Never really left."

Max nodded.

Chloe took another swig. "So I had this thought. It's fuckin' dumb as shit, but like, what would it take to stop some of this really heavy bad myself. If we had to, I mean. You can't be everywhere at once, and…well…I don't know - I think I could, maybe. And I wanted to explore some _way_ , some kind of _something_ we could like drop into the middle of a hot zone if we had to… Just kinda own an area and stop shit from escalating. I mean, I don't give a fuck if people volunteer to fight each other in the middle of nowhere. That's on them. But you know. That's never how it happens…"

Max paused, took a quiet sip of tea. Listened.

"So I maybe kinda designed a few new families of drones. Only, like, all-in this time. No pretense at passing for near-modern tech. Same with bots and um…another body? Still a prototype. You know, better for that kind of thing. Remote. Something to slip into, like I do with everything else. Worked on it in my head and down there, off and on for a while…" Chloe rested her chin on her hand. Grabbed a lazy noodle.

Max reached out, took hold of Chloe's noodle-hand. "I didn't know. Why didn't you say anything?"

"Well, I, uh... put it on hold anyway. Then, I mean, you know. I've always got dozens of projects going at once. This was just another one. But, change of priorities. Happens. Started spending more time in bio, more time with physical science teams in general. Working on all kinds of shit. But... after we found the vault…"

"We both felt helpless, Chloe. I get it. I mean…"

"I know. I know. But I uh, started it back up again. In those down-cycles. Told myself it would be good to have an extra pair of hands if nothing else… but I know it's more than that. Not that it would do fuck-all against any anything out there." She waved her hand vaguely at the ceiling. "Well, who knows? Maybe with enough of them eventually? Whatever…but…it's something to do."

Max chuckled…

"What? I'm being serious here…"

Max, still laughing to herself, "No, sorry. It's just…you realize you're totally channeling Stark right?"

Chloe, confused, "Ary?"

Max laughed, "I heart Arya. And I guess even Ned could apply in the meta 'winter is coming' sort of way, but no, I was thinking Tony. Iron Man 3?"

"Why do you…oh…shit. Ugh." Chloe, elbows on the table, palms to her temples. "You're such an ass, dude…"

Max slurped another noodle. "Not wrong though."

Chloe shook her head. "Shit…down to the existential fucking freak out over aliens, right? God, I can't even have an original freak-out overreaction? Why do I have to be this fucking derivative?"

"Chloe - you're never that. Oh - watch out for your hair with the soup. And like, big deal. We all deal with this crazy shit in different ways. Or don't deal. I mean, look, it's okay. Not even the first time the idea's come up. So you went out and built an IronChloe suit…"

Chloe laughed, took a longer swig. "…I hate you. And, you know, it's really nothing quite that elegant…"

Max gave her a playful look. "So not even rocket boots?"

"Nope. Sure as shit putting them on the next rev now, though. You just watch. Or I'll raid Parker's locker and just go straight to anti-grav… All the spinning rims…"

"Hmmm. Okay. So wait, like, are we talking…metal and plastic robot body, or more, you know…fully…functional bodies? …askin' for a friend."

"Synthetic…oh…I see that look. _God,_ you're such a little perv!"

"Me?! You know you were thinking it first. And…not like I'm gonna say 'no'."

Chloe couldn't help but laugh.

 _I know what you're doing…_

Chewing, she lightly bumped Max's foot under the table. With a slight nod, eye contact, "Thanks."

Max gave her a minor shrug. "It's ok, Chlo. You know we got this, right?"

* * *

 **Max** left Chloe upstairs, folded herself down to see it once they got home. Night mode. Half the lab was lit from below in a cool, diffuse sort of aqua coming through the frosted subfloor. Highlighting arms and spheres within spheres and what looked like a something half grown from a core seed in an open shell.

The other half of the lab was unlit, mostly reflecting back the glow over soft shadows. Racks stacked with curious shapes, parts. Boxes of tiny black bearings or something? And, a long segmented tentacle of some sort? Shimmered.

A movement in the dark caught Max's eye.

She walked toward it as the pale white figure rose silently from a workbench. Smooth. Featureless. Legs over the side, it hopped off to stand. Spoke with a version of Chloe's voice. "Dude. 'Sup?"

Hair cycled from black to white and back again.

Max, circled, fascinated, "Woah. This is super cool, Chlo…"

Chloe flexed her arms. Rotated a hand. "Still only a prototype. Load testing joints, defensive tech. Few more revs before the real deal. Not done yet."

"Obviously. Still missing all the grown-up parts…" Max grinned.

Chloe crossed her arms smartly across her chest. "Shut up… it's a combat skin."

Max touched the shoulder, ran her fingers down one arm. "Not skin. But still soft."

"I feel that. But…since it's just a remote…this outer layer is more like the suits ops has been beta testing. It goes deeper though…modified one of OtherChloe's material recipes with a few tweaks of my own. Cooperative liquid nano-bots. Well, semi-solid or liquid… Almost more like a shark inside; nothing's totally rigid. Any bit in the volume can work with others to act as structure, muscle, whatever. Designed from a blank slate. The mechanics of movement are completely different. Push and pull in the same instant. I'm way fast compared to what I used to be, but this is _so_ much faster. Still working out a few lag and timing issues as a result, but it's, uh… Tougher. Stronger. Designed to be a purer expression in some ways. For a purpose, you know. So…yeah?"

Max walked around, hands tracing around the back, fingertips following the indent down along the spine. "Same size and shape as you. Even resembles your face a little."

"Figured it would be easier for peeps in the field to relate to. While keeping it far enough from human to avoid the whole uncanny-valley-killer-robot aesthetic. Soft surfaces, friendlier. Could make so you couldn't tell if I wanted, but to be honest, I borrowed a few design cues from that Ghost in the Shell reboot from the 40's. What? It's not copying if it hasn't happened yet. They'll show up more in the next rev. Along with surveillance, ECM, weapons systems… Loads of extra space without all the differentiated organs and stuff too. Anyway… this is it. Her."

"She's really amazing, Chlo. I don't even know what to say."

"Thanks. Not _just_ me. I still feel like I'm only scratching the surface here. I mean, your old girlfriend was pretty fuckin' smart. This is a work in progress."

"Weirdo. And, aren't we all?"

"Come back up? I think there was some sort of plot to undress you or something? Remind me how that was supposed to go?" Chloe hopped her ROV back onto the bench, powered down.

* * *

 **Margaret** pressed. "Why do you feel she made that choice?" She sat comfortably in the high-backed chair opposite him, pen in hand, notepad in her lap.

He filled out his blue jumpsuit. Occupied one side of the couch in the common room, arm covering an armrest. "You mean why did she kidnap and dump me here?" challenged Gabriel. He was clearly angry, but appeared to understand his position. Behaved.

Guards stood outside the open doors.

Margaret acquiesced, "As you like."

"She has no respect for parley. For rules, traditions. Expected courtesies. I meant her no harm, I wasn't even armed. I was only there to talk. Broker a deal."

Margaret countered in her best 'disapproving grandmother' voice, "Unannounced, without a prior agreement of time, place, or ground rules. You did break into her house, rather like a criminal."

He sighed, frustrated, "Only as a last resort. I tried channels for weeks, tried to get an appointment to see her, but that wasn't getting me anywhere."

"She's often terribly busy. You must understand. But, back my question if we might? You criticized her behavior, and, I'm not saying you're wrong, but you still haven't answered. Why do you think she brought you here?"

"Same reason she does anything at all. Because she can. Because she still believes there won't be any consequences to her actions."

"And you're convinced there will be?" she arched her brows.

He frowned, "She's too powerful to be here and she knows it. There's an order to things, but she breaks across it all. She's young, spoiled. Maybe it's not her fault, but it's the same in the end. She does whatever she wants without consideration of the collateral damage, which makes her a persistently unpredictable threat to everything and everyone. It can't stand for long. Once this opens up, it gets bad for all of us. If we can't come to some agreed framework or accommodation, it's only a question of time."

She smiled, "That's funny."

"What?" he asked, annoyed.

"Oh, apologies, I thought you were making a little joke. Never-mind."

She'd framed this conversation to him as a necessary precaution. Disarmed, downplayed her own role significantly. No mention of talents. Just another admin. Bureaucrat. A cog of little importance. Told him this was standard - part interview, part threat evaluation. Something they'd commonly done to differentiate between the well-meaning majority - and the real criminal minority they encountered over the years. Which, surely, a gentleman like himself couldn't be. After a few sessions, they'd likely release him outright, or turn him over to law enforcement. Depending in part on her evaluation of his character, intentions and the specifics of the situation that lead him here.

Margaret played the familiar role of therapist and psychologist. While gently, invisibly, probing for surface thoughts or opportunities to dive deeper. Worst case, she'd toss him in Andersen's world to see if either let their guard down. But she wanted time with him alone first. Andersen was a special case. There was an even chance she'd have unfettered access to Gabriel's thoughts within a couple of hours if she played him correctly.

She continued, "Tell me about this deal you wished to make?" She caught a fleeting feeling from him. A sense of reversal of fortune, or…opportunity.

He paused. Lifted one leg to rest his ankle over the other knee, casually asserting space. "We want Andersen freed. That's all."

"Go on." She waited.

He continued, "In return, my employers are prepared to offer significant financial compensation for the inconvenience he caused, and a promise that this kind of unsanctioned operation won't be repeated."

 _Half-truths. Wiggle words._ She didn't need her talent to pick those out. After a moment of projected reflection, she replied, "That's not for me to decide, dear, but…I agree that she should hear your offer. If not her, someone. I only wish the circumstances of your attempted delivery had been different. You could have avoided all of this, and she might have been more receptive. Seems like a simple enough mistake in judgement."

He nodded. Picked up a throw-pillow on the side, tossed it up. Watched it slowly return. Finally asked, "I know I won't get a straight answer, but I have to ask… The gravity thing, what kind of tech is this?"

She smiled, "It's okay, it does no harm to confirm. There's no tech involved. We're inside one of our many lunar facilities."

His face blanked. Margaret saw that his immediate surprise shared headspace with rapid calculations, processing the myriad implications of her revelation. Too many. Amidst the tangle of furious mental activity, his more immediate concentration flagged.

To Margaret, his walls simply fell away.

From the top. Twenty years of intel, all buried in there somewhere. Names, dates, companies, crimes…and some good works as well. Would take her a while to go through his mind. She was more linear that way. No way to contact Max before her return. She'd do what she could in the next day, get the outlines. But Sophie should really be the one for bulk extraction. Her gifts operated on a very different level. By way of a different mechanism, they strongly suspected.

She scanned for abstract engrams of leadership. Cartoon characters. He didn't know them. Followed the threads. Families? Legacies? She'd always suspected… But so far back? Shifted. Senators. Congressmen. Some insiders, others on leashes. Surveillance. Blackmail. Leverage. Or just straight influence trading.

 _Of course._

Jotted a few quick notes.

"Any chance I can get something to eat? Could use a break." he asked. Unaware that she was in his mind, or that his ambient blocks were no longer functioning.

"Anything you'd like, dear. I'll phone the cafeteria." She pushed a plate toward him. "Here, have a cookie while we wait?"

* * *

 **Ariel** shot up. Ripped off her headset and threw it into the nearest wall as hard as she could.

" _Fuck!"_

She turned back, screamed again into the holo, "You god damned _piece of shit_ _ **motherfuckers!**_ "

Heads turned her way. She wasn't prone to outbursts. The ops floor silenced as she slammed the desk again. Somewhere behind, her chair bounced off a desk, rolled to a stop.

Impotent rage collapsed to guilt as reality set in.

 _God…dammit…_ She dropped to her knees, holding on to the front edge of her workstation with both hands…wishing she could crawl under. _I'm…so fucking sorry…_ She rested her head on her forearms, let out a breath. _…didn't mean…_

"Ari…" Dave slowly emerged from the glow of the control booth behind her. "it's…not your fault…"

Ariel, more quietly, "Yeah… I pushed it. My call to go tight." She stood up, logged the segment, wiped her cheek.

A few co-workers moved toward her station. Others watched quietly, respectfully, from their own.

A hand lit softly on her shoulder… "What happened?" She had red hair. _Sarah, maybe?_ Couldn't remember. Was usually better with names…

They all needed to see. What happened when shit went bad. A reminder about the kind of people they were watching. Ariel manually dialed the holo into a fast reverse. The mid-sized container ship slid backward through the sea. The churning white-green surface of the water fired raindrops at an angry sky.

After a moment, a container rose up on one side of the foaming wake, metal corner breaking the surface, holding there. It bobbled up, floated toward the back of the ship, rising in the water. Eventually leapt up into the crane, swung back to the stacks. She switched to thermal. Twenty people. Maybe more.

A voice within the small circle, "Jesus Christ. What is this? Where?"

"God, no…" whispered another. "They must have been so terrified…"

Ariel, resigned. "Too late. They're gone. Fucking things drop like rocks. They're slow-steaming. Mid-ocean. Closest ships are an hour away…"

Ariel spun the holo back to real time, forward motion. The ship's crew hooked up a second container. Her body tensed, hands shaking, voice came out a hoarse whisper, "You assholes have to come to shore sometime. Swear to _fucking god_ there's gonna be some kind of payback waiting…"

The first girl with red hair picked up a nearby phone, gave Ariel a kind, sympathetic smile. "Silly rabbit… You've been up _way_ too long. You know there's no such thing as 'too late'." She flipped through the directory, dialed. Waited. "Hi… I'm sorry to disturb you on your vacation, Ms. Martin. Sarah Burke on Foglight, 23rd. We really need some help over here. Yes. Right now. I'm sorry. It's an emergency. Go ahead, read me and probably Ari too? Thank you. …yeah…I know… Can you reach her?"

* * *

 **Max** folded in near the front of the ops floor, made a beeline for Ariel.

Sophie woke her up a couple of minutes before with call, the link, and a quick replay of what they'd seen. Max only took enough time to throw on PJs, ignoring her obvious bed-head.

"Sorry. I fucked up, boss." Ariel said, hand on her head. "They made one of our drones. Thought the weather would mask us, but I got too close and they spooked. Dumped four containers over the side. People in three of them. I, uh…we don't know what was in the fourth. They're changing course, so not totally sure where they're headed now. My call to leave the containers in play for the follow…I should have been more careful, and…now they're dead…"

Max could see she was taking this to heart. She'd crossed paths with Ariel a couple of times over the past year - most recently on New Year's. Briefly, anyway. Head and heart in the right places. Sophie said the teams and floor staff all liked working with her… Good lead. Professional. Driven. Sometimes, bad shit just happened. Max gave her a quick dismissive head-shake. "Would you roll it all the way back, please?"

Ariel indexed to the decision point. "That's where we moved it closer."

"Okay. What's that timestamp?"

"13:34 remote. Like I said, I'm really sorry to drag you out of bed - I know you shouldn't have to deal with this in the middle of the night. But if you could just leave me a quick email or note or something before then to keep me from messing up and killing everyone, I'd owe you big time…"

"No. I think we're beyond that." Max said flatly, staring at the ship.

"I, uh…understand, and you have every right to let me go, but please…it's my fuckup - those people didn't deserve this…"

 _Huh? Oh…._ "Sorry. Ariel… No. You rule. You all do. I know this is moonlighting. I only meant that we're past the point of a simple reset. These assholes saw a drone, and their first instinct was to panic-murder sixty helpless people? More? Yeah. No. _Fuck these guys…_ They're done. Someone bring up a wide satellite view, center on their position?"

* * *

 **Max** landed back in bed a half hour before. The room was dark, quiet. She felt an intense warmth radiating across the space between them. Chloe's new trick, at least when she wanted to steal Emo…she'd raise her body temperature a few degrees. The Monster was probably on the other side soaking up the heat. Max didn't want to wake either of them, but she had to go. Folded herself directly to the closet floor, got up and quietly closed the door from inside before moving the switch to the dimmest setting.

As she dressed, she called Sophie. Used the ring to get her attention, but disconnected the call once they linked. Max showed her everything from the last stub. Including memories from the perspectives of Ariel and others on the floor that Sophie had passed along last timeline. Sophie in turn linked back to Ariel and a few others, to return the fourth-hand visions of their original memories. A pale sort of deja-vu. Heads-up, anyway.

Max stopped by the ops floor first. Ariel, seated, mouthed 'sorry'. She was more emotionally removed this round. Hadn't happened here yet. Wouldn't now. Max, on the other hand, was pretty fucking far from removed. She carried her own feelings about what she'd seen, multiplied by her history, mixed with the unfiltered emotional imprints of others she'd picked up through the link before her jump back… She grabbed an earpiece. "Ariel - let the loading docks downstairs know they've got some fragile cargo inbound?"

"Will do. I'll have a few med teams meet you down there as well."

"Thanks. Someone keep an eye on the drones once I land? Watch for any jumpers? There's a part-two of this conversation we'll get to later…"

"On it." said Dave.

Ops gave way to the mixed grey of windy sea and storm-clouds.

She kept pace a little ahead of the ship below. She'd still have to make adjustments, but it would be easier if she started at the same speed.

A voice echoed through her earpiece, frequencies shifting, "Gap in the cargo stacks is clear, Max… Good a time as any."

"Roger, Roger." She released the bubble. Her body fell out from under her.

The familiar frisson of free-fall started in the pit of her stomach. Punched through the center of her lower back, racing out across her skin, crashing around her body, up her spine and down her limbs in flashing, tingling waves. Wind and rain pulled at her hair as the ship grew. _Stick the landing, Max. Low power this time._

The horizon pulled in as the boat raced up to meet her. Ten seconds. Eleven…

After twenty seconds, colors flashed past. She had better control of the necessary spatial distortions now, used the last three feet to decelerate, stopped just above the deck. Dropped the last inch. Wet, but grippy. Sandpaper paint over cold steel. The ship pitched, pushing from below.

She'd memorized the container locations before leaving. They were last on, so nothing above. Scanned the stacks quickly to get her bearings. Folded up to one container, pulled it across with her to the loading docks beneath HQ. Cold rainwater splashed off it, ran along the ground toward a central drain a few marked spaces away. A few operators were already waiting for her. She turned away from the box, moved from the garage back to the ship mid-stride. Repeated the process with the remaining three they'd dumped in the prior timeline.

By the time she'd retrieved the fourth and parked it in an empty spot, medical teams were running out of the elevators. Returning to the first container, she shifted her frame, sheared the lock by hand, then re-synchronized to gently open the latching mechanism for the doors. A long metal creak, and she was hit by a wave of human stench. The portable toilets inside obviously failed with the rough seas. But there was something else. Worse.

Bottles of water rolled out across the floor of the garage.

Light from the open door faded mid-way back, but she could sense people huddled together at the far end. She walked in alone, quiet, a small shadow against the backlight. Stepping carefully over the bedrolls and boxes and cushions, she spoke in a soft voice, "Hello. I don't know if you can understand me. But we're here to help you. You're all safe. Nothing bad will happen. I promise." She continued in, hands open and out to her sides. Vision partially adjusted to the dark, she found a pair of eyes reflecting. Crouched down. "Hey there. Are you okay? We have doctors waiting outside if anyone is hurt. Showers, food, water. Anything you need."

She noted their thick plastic collars. Numbers hastily written in bold marker.

Anger colored outside her lines.

 _Not now. Not here._

The moment seemed to go on for moments. Finally, the pair of eyes cautiously rose up, shuffled forward. Max stood, held out her hand. "Come. We'll fix you up and get you home. Or wherever you want to go. You're free… All of you." She felt a thin shaking hand gripping hers. Cool to the touch. Smiled, turned, walked slowly to the door. Looking back again, she motioned to the others, said, "Come on. Everyone. It's okay. Everything's gonna be okay now."

In ones and twos, they followed her out into the light.

* * *

 **Chloe** saw herself sitting up in bed, knees to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs. Emo wandered off for a snack as soon as Chloe woke up. When Max vanished.

She watched as Max briefed ops. Held the various theaters of view in her head while Max bounced between them. The raw data feeds from the drones. The cameras in the garage. Elevator. She powered up the medical wing and kitchen before the staff had the first victims headed up.

Chloe saw everything as it unfolded. Felt the same things everyone did. Frustration, heartbreak, barely contained anger. But she also focused in on Max. Alone, small, off to the side now. Micro-expressions only Chloe could see. Max couldn't hide the pain. She carried it with her whole body. And as horrific as all of this shit was, Chloe knew there was something more going on inside. Something else she couldn't quite read.

Worried, she pushed up out of bed to get dressed.

* * *

 **Max** stayed with them until all four containers were open, and it was clear that the triage was going okay. She learned they'd been at sea for weeks, but who knew what their situation had been leading up to that point. Nearly sixty in all. Mostly women, a few men, with a handful of children. Boys and girls.

Apparently, two young children died shortly after their container was loaded onto the ship. No one inside knew who they used to be. But once underway, their deaths were discovered. A few of the women wrapped their fragile bodies in layers of borrowed clothing; some small measure of isolation and respect. Three refused to leave the container or accept medical help until the children's bodies were brought out. Two operators, both former special forces, respectfully carried the tiny bundles to waiting gurneys. Their expressions were mirrors of Max's turbulent emotions.

Among the others, a few were hypothermic; all were undernourished. Max didn't know what was intended for them at their destination, but in her experience, the likely horrors only differed by degree.

The fourth container was packed full of counterfeit designer bags, each wrapped in plastic, bundled together in stacks of plastic bins. It was insult on top of injury that the crew treated all four containers as equal in their jettison.

She took a deep ragged breath.

Exhaled.

It was all too real.

Too goddamn familiar.

There was no 'outside the lines' anymore.

No more holding this back.

Her fists clenched. Squeezing inward.

She was alone in her head.

Timelines blending across her mind.

Angry tears pushed for release.

For the ones here now.

And for all the ones she'd left behind, scattered across timelines.

 _Twenty years to find her_

 _another sixty to get her out before they could…_

 _I fucking can't…_

Max couldn't look away. Her eyes burned.

 _Goddamn fucking collars._

The wave pushed in from behind. Hard this time.

Not a momentary swell of melancholy.

This was a rising surge.

The cold leading edge of a terrible storm.

One she'd repressed for too long.

 _Not here._

She folded to the rooftop. Silent. Cold.

Everything in her head contrasted with the festive city lights beyond the edge.

She wanted to tear them apart.

… _fucking monsters._

Her senses blurred with old memories too powerfully connected to ignore.

The helplessness she'd felt.

The fear and empty doubt she'd so recently denied herself.

 _Her burdens to carry._

So many…

Overlapping now.

Building into rogue waves.

 _Not here. Not where they can see…_

Eyes to the heavens, she rocketed straight up. Trailing light. Captured a bubble of air seconds before breaking through the upper atmosphere. Kept going. Accelerating. The world fell far behind. She focused outward, looking for someplace off to the side. Out of the way. A place without witnesses. Without stars. Pulled herself halfway across the cosmos, left the light. Found herself in a dark void. A place so isolated, so distant from matter, she couldn't make out any points of light with her naked eyes.

A center of repulsive expansion; buzzing with virtual energy.

But to her, it was the perfect bubble of nothing.

 _Far enough._

Only then did she let it come.

Stopped fighting the memories.

Her sadness, fury.

Ghosts…

There was nothing to push away this time. Nowhere else to go.

Nothing bright or shiny in this fucking moment.

She wanted to feel this. Had to.

Let it build in her.

 _Only way to get it out._

 _Let it go._

Every loop had been permanent for her.

She felt everything. Deeply.

Remembered everything.

Tried to forget. Look away.

But some memories stood out, bright like knives.

 _Chloe._

 _The poor souls in those containers._

 _So many countless others._

She felt the vast black clouds sublimate from nothing, coalesce around her.

Alone, she screamed at the darkness…

Shaking.

Let it overtake her.

Let it all flood back in.

Her body like a heavy spring under tension…

Heart scarred, bleeding.

 _Let go._

 _Remember…_

 _Chloe…_

At the limits of her rewind.

Nosebleeds back.

Head splitting.

Helpless as they were separated.

Carried forward.

Provinces where Colorado once stood.

She was just…gone.

Decades apart from each other, again and again.

Forcing Chloe to live through it too many times, looking for a way.

Never really knowing how it would end…

Finally tracking her down, hundreds of miles away. Reaching her there for the first time, only twenty years too late. They said she was theirs. Had her in a _motherfucking collar_. Property. That's what they called her. Won her fair and square, they said. She wasn't the only one. Not the first 'owners', either. There was a line going back to her abduction by the militias that first goddamn piece of shit day…

Chloe. Older. Shared. Chained, strung out, powerless. Blank. Her mind somewhere else. If at all. Her Chloe…vacant. Max's heart couldn't possibly break into smaller pieces. She'd never known a hate like this; so strong it almost had a physical presence. But she was patient. Boiling. Extracted some of their names. Followed the trail of abusers back. Killed them all. Twice at least. Some three times, adding up all the different timelines.

It was still too late. Didn't ever change that. Once she saw Chloe, and understood that Chloe wasn't seeing her, Max knew the past was the only way to save her. Only way forward was back. But…how? Too much time between…

While monster hunting through the ruins of a lost civilization, she searched for a path. Paths. More years. Each time, getting a little closer. Two steps forward, two steps back. In a state of near-constant desperation and despair, but never fully giving up… Couldn't ever give up. Not on her. _Never._

Her journey took her back to where it began. She finally found an intake photo buried in a cabinet in the ruins of the train station. Old processing center. It was hers.

Ecstatic, hopeful, she jumped through without thinking, back another twenty-five years, nearly to the beginning this time. Then a long rewind back to the underground lines where she'd fallen asleep. After they'd become separated. Couldn't go back any further. Her face bloody, it put her within a day of the market. But on the wrong side of time. She still had to work it the rest of the way. But she knew some of the names. So close. And yet…

Trapped. Under tension, pulled back to the emptiness of her future. Over and fucking over. She was only ever a tourist in the past. It took years of trial and error and re-dos, through all the pain and frustration and heartbreak from there - to be so close to the beginning, to maybe finding her early, getting her all the way out. More years of obsessive agony to tear through the membrane of the moment. To escape beyond the borders of memory. Only guardrails, training wheels - those artificial safety blocks finally wore through, fell away. After so much pushing, bleeding, raging. All the while, screaming at the cruelty of the universe and her own limits. So fucking close. Years to learn how to jump back through a photo and stay. Only to realize she didn't have the photo with her at the moment it was taken. They did. Behind the line. Behind the bars. Couldn't access it. Missed opportunities, forced to go forward again, chasing her, missing jump points… Killing them again. Too late again. Finding the same photo again so many years later.

Four major loops. Eighty years.

That's what it took to find and rescue Chloe, while she was still herself. Before it could begin at all.

The last year, maybe more, after the final big jump, Max refused to go forward. Found a way to get behind the scenes. Learned the path of the photo they'd taken of her. That first flash at every loop. Found it. From then on, she was forever in that day.

She became an expert navigator. Flash. Go through processing. Get the ID. Kill the guard - he'd wake up by noon otherwise - but no blood, take his uniform, dress in the closet in darkness, take the keys, go to the machine, grab the picture as it comes out. Keep it safe. That, above all else. It was her only way back. If she lost it, she wouldn't ever find it again in the future. It was something she'd changed now. She was running on a razor's edge.

Perma-death rewinds, general rewinds were enough though. As long as she didn't ever lose consciousness, she'd be good. Better to take a bullet than a fist. Better to 'die' with the rewind than lose consciousness in a fight. After the first months, it became routine. Pushing farther each pass. She knew everyone. Where they were. Where they'd be. What questions they'd ask, what the right answers were. Where the dangers were. Which obstacles she could bypass with stealth, at what points she had to commit to overwhelming violence. She made herself an expert at all of them, in service to one very specific rescue.

Her memory and persistence were her only weapons. Well…and the knives. Guns. She infiltrated them, played every possible branch. Memorized the timing of the ones that took her closer. Integrated them into her day-long ballet. Get to the end, loop. Fail - loop. Every move, every hiding spot, every code, key, shadow, word…every step back to her. Every life taken - some thousands of times. Every shot, fired or avoided. The path of every bullet. Hers and theirs. Every reload. Every click into an empty chamber. But she did it. Not one missed shot. That final, beautiful, terrible performance. Groundhog Day met John Wick in a choreography of life-ending precision. Hundreds of their militia left dead.

Busted her out though. Killed everyone she knew would come after them, before finally freeing Chloe. She'd saved her from any memory of what she'd been forced to endure so many times...

Only her though.

Shiny at the end. For Chloe. It had only been a little more than a day. Another scary blip, but no more. Max was beyond grateful to have found a way. After so much effort, so many tears, endless loops, to finally have her all the way back. Her Chloe. Brilliant crazy stupid love of her life. Her only thought was to get them as far away as she could, as fast as they could move. Chloe first. Always. But…like Arcadia, she never quite managed to let go of the guilt. For what she'd become. What she'd had to do. For everything that happened to Chloe along the way. For all the others she'd knowingly run away from. Left behind. So many. Left to their fates. Left to Chloe's fate. Worse.

Wasn't the first or last time for that either.

But she had no choice. She had to choose. It was never really a choice. Chloe. Always.

The choice came easy, but it wasn't ever. Not after. Not really.

Her burdens…

For all her powers, Max had never felt so helpless as when they were safely away.

In hindsight, she was sure some of that bled over. An unfortunate fragment. Only, without the two centuries beyond that might have tempered her reactions. Had to be. That guilt. The fury. Made it through. After her interrupted, failed jump. After the first butterfly. Screams embedded themselves deep into her young subconscious. The gambling den in Seattle. How easy it had been to kill those men. Seeing the women chained in the booths. Chloe right there. An obvious trigger. She ripped a man in half for standing between them. Literally in half. Could have undone it. But she chose not to. Killed them all. And with Roland. How quickly, without thought, she'd given in. Defeated, collapsed inward in the first moments of Chloe's torture. Knowing what it could mean for millions of people. Anything to stop it. And still, he made them both endure the rest… And then, after the storm, after her rebirth, after coming back to herself…how easy it had been to kill him. Again and again. _…and again…_

Max turned in her bubble, felt the wobble of thick tears pooling across the surface of her eyes…

Felt the gasses and dust draw closer, thicker, spinning…

She told Sophie she'd let go of her time in the mid 22nd… Moved on. Partly true. Healed some. Buried the rest. For long periods anyway. But something like that doesn't ever really leave. At the very least, it shaped her going forward. Backward. She was pretty sure that's where she'd always be. It was a time in her life. She was aware of it, at least. Just had to work her way past it again. Work her way past now.

It had been a while since she'd let these thoughts and feelings landslide back in.

Sadness and regret for all she couldn't do, mixed with critical self-analysis of all the things she'd done… had to do.

That was a dark place. Dark times.

She was a very different person then. Harder. Had to be.

But so much weaker for all that.

Haunted. Desperate.

So many compromises. Sacrifices. Little pieces of her soul. Some not so small.

Eighty-years of shitty days. All for her.

She'd do it all over, of course.

Knowing full well she didn't ever want to be that person again… But, for Chloe… If the alternative was losing her…

And after everything…it was Chloe who saved her. Brought her back to them. Brought Max back to herself. Without even knowing it. Chloe never knew. Wouldn't ever know, if Max had her way.

She learned a few tricks in those twisted loops of Max-time. All but a day erased at the end. But they served as her motivation for the next two centuries of intensive training. Convinced her they had to try to do something more to help. Change things. Heal things. The world was…broken. What they'd done to Chloe wasn't the worst she'd seen. Not even close. Another in that long line of 'never again'. She always let Chloe push her. After. Let her think she was the one making Max practice. Chloe wasn't wrong. Just wasn't right in the way she thought.

Max knew she was truly lost without her. Chloe. Her love. Her heart. Her strength and her kryptonite… well, used to be the last. Even Chloe wasn't the same later in that timeline. Certainly not now. She could take care of herself. Almost didn't matter. They were always stronger together, whenever they were. _Even kryptonite had a half-life…_

Some of that had bled through too, she realized.

The voice of her better angel.

The defining branch point of her younger self here.

Choosing office supplies over the expedience of mass murder…

Not all lessons were lost.

 _Long way back though._

The clouds fell inward to gravity.

Max wiped her eyes, droplets floating off, rippling, circling around. The burning rage had subsided to a dull sort of anger, layered over a deep, enduring pain. Perspective crept back as she relived the closure of that terrible journey. Remembered the lessons. Remembered where she was. When she was.

 _None of those events will ever come to pass. Not now. Not in this timeline._

 _We've changed too many things. And we're only at the very beginning._

Even if something of that broken world had been here all along, she was a very different person now too. Softer. Even more so after reconnecting with her younger self in 2013. Happy childhood memories were more fresh in a lot of ways. More recent. She could afford to be softer. Brighter. Optimistic. She was vastly more capable this time around. Laughably so. With more years and perspective. Balance. Better at rebalancing anyway. More options. Benefits of all the training and… _and whatever the hell else was happening with all that…_

… _I mean, something in me is changing. Accelerating. Something. I'm floating between…galaxies…in the vast emptiness between filaments and walls of superclusters…billions of light years from home…where did this come from?_

Her fists unclenched. She opened and closed her hands a few times.

Relaxed them. Felt some of the tension in her release.

If she was ever to somehow find herself back there in that other branch, in that same desperate situation, but as the person she was now…none of the other victims would be left behind. That was for sure. _Not. One._

She pictured the docks. The containers.

 _Not victims. People._

Their dark journey came to an end.

A better one.

 _They have a new chance._

 _This will be a scary time in their lives, but they can still have happy endings…_

 _Because a team of people, our team, cared enough to watch over the lost._

 _God, why was this ever a volunteer side-project instead of a priority op?_

 _How the fuck did we let that happen?_

She exhaled as more of the tension flowed out of her shoulders.

 _No more compromises._

 _No more sacrifices._

 _No more choosing._

 _Everyone makes it home from now on._

 _Fucking everyone._

 _Almost. Rule #3 still holds._

 _Monsters don't get to stay._

 _But…they have to go somewhere…_

 _Margaret's right…we need a Monster Island…_

She took a breath.

Found herself drifting slowly, vaguely, in the direction of home.

Outward, beyond the edge of the collapsing cloud, invisible in the darkness.

Was she still fantasizing about another shot at Alt-Colorado?

Or Arcadia Bay?

Or any of the other fractured places they'd been?

Any of the lost people they'd passed by, regrettably or unknowing across the centuries?

 _Have I ever stopped?_

Or was it something more?

Still bottled up… unspoken.

Earth?

All of the other lost worlds out there?

And what that might mean…

 _Shadows…_

 _Is it all too much?_

Her anger completed its descent through the melancholy, finally flattening out into that familiar ground-state of quiet, absolute resolve.

She floated in silence. Thoughtful now.

Unconsciously, she reached across, held the butterflies on her arm.

 _Doesn't matter._

 _Still applies._

 _If you can, if there's any way at all, you have to…_

 _Chloe said once I can't be responsible for those I couldn't save._

 _That's not really true anymore._

 _Not if I really_ _ **can**_ _save everyone…_

 _And if I can, I have that responsibility…_

 _And yeah, Sophie…there are more ways to save people._

 _Lending hope; helping them to find their best selves._

 _Helping them to save each other…save themselves…_

 _It's a nice notion._

 _True in the long game, at macro level._

 _But there are times, situations where that breaks down._

 _People at the mercy of others, at the mercy of fate, who can't possibly help themselves._

… _with no one coming to save them._

 _A more direct intervention is the only hope they have…_

 _But there's so goddamn many…_

 _I can't be_ _ **everywhere**_ _at once…_

 _You don't have to be._

 _Chloe, John, Hector, Ty…_

 _Thousands more inside._

 _Talents, friends we've made around the world along the way, people we've helped…_

 _Weird internet fringe, I guess?_

 _They're all on your side too…_

 _You're not alone, Max._

 _Don't believe that._

 _You're just not._

 _You don't have to carry this all by yourself._

 _And it's okay…these people, they'll be okay now…_

 _You saved them._

 _We all saved them…_

 _Most of them._ She remembered.

Dropped her eyes.

Yeah, she could effortlessly tear the perpetrators apart.

 _Which is why I can't..._

 _Hope, light, it has a different source._

She floated on.

Returned to herself.

Worry, guilt, soul hurt finally fading to background again…

One thing she knew. They'd all seen enough darkness to last forever. She had, for sure. Knew that's why she embraced and indulged her younger self as often and as deeply as she could. Embraced silliness and nonsense and lightness wherever possible. Loved that in Chloe too. Shiny mattered. Some things were better left far behind. …some parts of herself too. She'd never again be innocent. But she could choose to be better… Every day. Making up for everything she'd done. And everything she hadn't. And making right a whole world full of never again.

 _Maybe more than one…_

She wiped away the last of her tears, re-centered herself. Calm. In focus.

 _For now. Some things you don't fix. Only manage…_

But she was deeply thankful for every chance, every moment, every opportunity.

And most of all, for Chloe.

 _Chloe…_

 _Not just Chloe…_

She turned, headed home.

 _I have to try…_

Behind her, the rotating clouds of gifted matter finally collapsed.

Ignited.


	13. Second thoughts

**Chloe** was on her way to find Max when she jumped from the garage up to the roof. Watched in silence as she painted a faint trail into the sky and vanished. Worried, too late, but there was nothing she could do for her now. _Fuck._ She stopped the elevator, reversed direction. Headed to medical to help out instead.

 _Full house._

The outer half of the med-floor was a tangle of hallways and patient facilities. Automated diagnostic and imaging rooms, recovery tanks, nano-operating theaters, regeneration equipment. The closer half, nearest the core, was broken up into a few large open sections, with the middle space serving as a mix of waiting area and triage, depending on needs. It was usually empty, but staff were always on hand to provide services for employees or their families. Or to guide treatment of any injuries teammates might bring back from the field. Tonight, they were a little overwhelmed.

Despite the crowd, the first thing to hit Chloe was the quiet. Shuffling. A cough here or there. She'd assessed most of the new arrivals individually while they were still en-route to the floor. Exposure, dehydration, some malnutrition, these were things they could easily fix, help make them more comfortable. But the fear, the reflexive stares toward the exits…the silence… All symptoms of a trauma that was more internal, if shared. Normal for what they'd been through, but harder to fix with an IV, warm bed and hot food alone. Would take time. And a more careful, human touch.

As she scanned, she couldn't help but notice the gurneys parked inside the entryway, tucked off to one side, partially hidden behind a thin tracked curtain. Small shapes beneath the white sheets. That was all kinds of fucked up. Taggart and Jeffries, the two operators who'd retrieved their bodies, stayed with them. Planted themselves just outside the curtain. Symbolic. Like an unspoken sort of honor guard for the fallen, maybe. Chloe knew they had their own traditions. A subconscious scan through their files and social profiles confirmed that each had young children of their own. _Close to home._

Ariel arrived ten minutes after Chloe. She was on the other side of the room, delivering food, trying to help wherever she could. Her watch. Her mission. Ariel was probably where she most needed to be for herself right now.

 _Speaking of… Where are you, Max?_

Chloe busied herself connecting with their new patients, just over sixty in all. Talking with some of them, acting as occasional translator for med-staff, helping to remove collars and sub-dermal RFIDs, while helping others to the showers to clean up. Re-humanizing. Occasionally lending her own diagnostic medical sensing or expertise. A few patients had conditions unrelated to their captivity that needed attention as well.

Meanwhile, she ran faces to names against social nets in the background where she could, building dossiers, connecting with distant law enforcement agencies, beginning the process of reconnecting them with family or friends; there were a few countries of origin. Most of these were among the poorest back home. Marginalized or vulnerable.

But…a few of them weren't especially anxious to return. Some of their circumstances were more nuanced than she expected.

At least two had volunteered _themselves_ into captivity on promises that their families would receive money from the local bosses. Three more had hopes of escaping home; finding a better life. A measure of their desperation and naïveté that an unknown future of servitude seemed like a preferable path. One was sold away by her uncle, who couldn't afford to feed her, another by her parents for the cash. The rest were simply kidnapped and taken against their will. But many worried for themselves or their families if they returned. A wide range of local gangs, thugs or bandits were part of the trade, and a persistent part of the problem. Recapture or reprisals were strong possibilities for some if they were simply turned around and sent back.

Layer shame and family honor and other such notions on top of all of that and…it was more than the medical staff here were trained to handle on their own. _Few more hours on that…but for now, see to their immediate needs. Food. Hydration. Care. Most have someone somewhere worried sick about them… Case by case on the rest when the time comes._

Even with the complications, there was gratitude from them as well. Through the shock.

Little things. A touch, a slight smile. Before focus returned to some distant horizon.

Chloe sat with a girl, maybe seventeen. Propped up, IV in her hand. She wouldn't speak. Wouldn't look at her. Just held Chloe's hand tightly. Staring off. Squeezing at irregular intervals. One of the other women warned she'd been taken away a few times. During the voyage. Chloe made sure that she'd be one of the first the specialized trauma counselors visited, once they arrived. Meanwhile, if it helped her in some small way, Chloe was happy to sit with her.

She kept watch on the Vegas surveillance shell with her inner eye.

Was aware of Max's return when she touched down above.

Studied her as she vanished from the roof to appear in the central ring just outside the entryway.

 _More relaxed. Wherever she went, however long she was gone in MaxTime, must have helped. That's good at least._

Chloe excused herself to go to her, but the girl held on.

* * *

 **Ariel** pushed a cold metal cart overloaded with covered trays of warm food, plastic sippy cups, wobbly green Jell-O. Most of the patients had been cleared for solids. The kitchens opened before the containers hit the dock, so there was more on the way.

After watching over all of them for weeks on thermal, it was such a relief to have them here, as real people, out of harm's path. They were her responsibility. Clear now, thankfully. She wasn't sure what waited for each of them at home, but it would still be home. Day or two was all, maybe.

They didn't know she'd been there, watching over them. But it felt good to finally see their faces.

The world had more work to do to make this kind of shit go away for good. But that was the long job. For now, this was a start. Small victory. A concrete difference. And a far better ending than any of the others that might have been. _Or had been_ , she reminded herself.

She delivered another meal, turned back to the cart. Caught Chloe across the way, sitting with one of the other patients. Chloe looked up, her attention on the entrance. Ariel followed her line of sight. _Max!_

She was the reason any of them were alive at all. Max was _so_ her goddamn hero right now. All of theirs, always, but…but especially to her. After what happened…

Her heart sank a little as she saw where Max was headed.

Off to one side. Somehow, she'd missed them in all those scans, tucked away in a corner of the box…

Too little heat to register.

Absently carrying a tray, Ariel changed direction, toward Max. To thank her, to distract her, she…wasn't really sure. Chloe tried to do the same, but the patient she was with wouldn't let go. Chloe nodded to Ariel like it was a baton pass, relented.

Max gave a quick wave, acknowledging Chloe, said something to the tac guys, thanking them maybe? Still not close enough to hear the words. They went behind the curtain, made a space between the gurneys. Max quietly slipped between from the other side. Rested a gentle hand on each of their tiny chests. Bowed her head a little.

Ariel winced.

 _Ouch._

 _Max…_

 _We saved so many…_

 _don't torture yourself… there's nothing you could have…_

Max said something to herself.

Ariel only caught the final word.

"… _everyone_."

Max closed her eyes.

Her expression changed…concentration…

As if she was listening to a beautifully intricate and emotional symphony only she could hear.

Took Ariel a moment to realize - Max's feet had lifted off the ground.

Their frail bodies rose with her, slowly. Sheets floating, airy, just above them, draping over like jellyfish. The air around them…glowing?

Something happened.

A pressure wave, a pop of wind.

The tray slipped forward, out of Ariel's hands.

Stopped short of the ground.

Contents scattered, rolled, suspended in air.

Jell-O cubes wobbled, pulsed from inside.

Intensity flared, all details lost in light.

Patients sat up, straining to see.

There was something, almost musical, rhythmic.

Subsonic tickles. Felt, more than heard.

Ariel fought the instinct to look away as the light spiked again, grew, shining bright through the sheets and curtain. A penetrating luminance that cast no shadows, it took over the lobby. Like the sun from inside, but without glare or any of the bad parts. Nothing frantic or painful. It was enveloping. Calming. Welcome. Could barely make out Max in the center. There was nothing else. Only the light. Warmth… love… healing… Something more than hope. It seemed to flow from her, radiant, in waves.

At least, that's how it all seemed to Ariel.

* * *

 **Chloe** embraced her own internal clock-speed, shifting her perception of the flow of the world.

From her various lines of sight, she traced the light echoing, curving wrong around the bodies. Around Max.

Her world slowed to a crawl, but Max was still another exponent beyond. Chloe's enhanced view zoomed tight on her throat, measuring visible pulse through the glare. Quick sample. Max's heart-rate was nearly forty-three thousand beats per second, shifting her forward to about twelve hours for every second on the outside at her normal resting rate.

A closer look. The bending light.

Small objects around the room drifting, unbound.

She calculated the geometries, the forces inside. Leaking out.

The math was a mess, but it was obvious what Max was trying to do.

Maybe too much.

 _But…what if…?_

… _holy fuck - if she can really do it…_

 _Max?!_

* * *

 **Max** focused.

 _Come on… You brought an entire world back to life. Millions of creatures. What's two more smallish people?_

 _Okay, so that wasn't all me - and we were going forward with seeds of life, not back to reclaim the old..._

 _But whatever._

 _It doesn't matter._

 _This_ _ **needs**_ _to happen, and there's_ _ **no**_ _reason it won't work._

 _You've done all the individual parts by themselves…_

 _Sortof._

 _This is…just snapping powers together. Like Legos._

 _Right?_

 _Sure._

 _But…be_ _ **really**_ _fucking careful._

She first witnessed Alexander's teleportation, his peculiar style of matter-phasing non-spherical wormhole travel, in an undone branch of reality years ago. Played with it a few times herself, but folding as she did was always more natural for her. Their techniques were very different, but his manipulations had some advantages for what she wanted to do here.

With their stations on Luna, the gene vaults on Triton and Callisto, and other off-world cache facilities scattered back, isolated from history, she always folded to them - moved herself to their time and space, along with whatever else. There were no other interactions between this world and those distant underground spaces. No ripples traveled between isolated ponds. Here though, she was reaching through to the past to pull something forward, without disconnecting herself from the present.

She was hopeful, but this was her first attempt… Couldn't be sure.

On this side, she isolated herself and their bodies from the flow of the world. Around each child, she wrapped a body-hugging Vankin-style wormhole exiting milliseconds into their past. Rather than connecting to another space, she was connecting to another space and time. … _times_. And she had to keep them open for the duration. Angry phasing portals, unstable, extending inches above skin. Now four wormhole openings. Four bodies, two time periods, out of phase with each other, superimposed. Still reactive, between them. She pushed the exits away, more minutes into the past. Interference diminished, as she overlaid gradient fields of differential time flows between the past and present, a sort of regulating mechanism for what was to come. Three flows. Seconds outside, a day inside maybe, and weeks going the other direction on the far end. Gravity bled through, quadrupled, she reversed, cancelled. The edges of the wormholes reacted with each other and with the time-gradients. She reshaped, kept them apart.

 _Steady…_

Like lenses in time, focused around the bodies of the children, she pushed the history-facing wormholes farther back, following the movements of their mass. Fighting, keeping them inside the edges. Holding the bodies steady here, while adjusting for the pitch and yaw and slide of the other side in real time… each distant end moving away more and more quickly, accelerating backward with them over rapid waves. Nesting shells of forces within forces, punching through reality, questing for signs of life. The world outside nearly frozen.

The rise and fall as the air ripped around her…

So many primal forces competing for dominance. Interacting.

Max, balancing, conducting from the center.

She pulled the harmful radiation through her to…somewhere else.

Pushed the tiny amount of residual energy that remained outward.

Mostly shifted to infrared and visible at the edge, buffered for a slow, accumulative release.

They were on the move nearly the whole time. She'd been at this for hours. Wasn't just rolling the pitching space around them backwards. She was trying to return them to the world alive. But here. Now. Had to compensate for their movements over the past few weeks to find them first.

The idea came to her out in the void. Worked the mechanisms on the way home. It was a 'maybe' at best, but close enough.

Matching the raw motions of the earth, sun, and galaxy systems was simple. Background. She did it every time she folded, time jumped, shifted frames, whatever. It was all relative, and relatively uncomplicated. Just pick a frame of reference, and it was mostly automatic. Spatial-temporal muscle memory. Some part of her knew where to aim.

When she rolled the space-station build crew in Ecuador back a year, it was the same - they were all in the same valley, which she accelerated forward anyway - so she didn't have to compensate for normal outside time or location shifting all that much. Wasn't a big deal to roll a smaller section of that same space with all the people in it backward - returning borrowed time to the ground crew, only without their memories. She reset the space containing them to a prior save-point, in a certain sense. They just went along for the ride.

This was similar to that but active, hands-on, with about ten times more variables. There was no save point she could use. The coordinates of their spaces were unknown, changing. These kids were long dead. She wasn't sure exactly how long. But they were last alive in a place she didn't know, hadn't ever been or seen herself. So, the least convoluted way to find them alive was to walk the path with them until she could make the swap.

Their small frames traveled thousands of miles over bumpy seas after death, sliding over waves in three axes. Driving the full-body wormholes back, she had to compensate for all of that displacement, on top of the usual orbital system level stuff, tracing them to the last time and place they drew breath. Without disrupting others in the container during their journey.

It all made a certain kind of sense, once she started.

Once she felt how little mass made them.

Too little, even for children of this size.

She cheated to avoid the paradox.

Bridging them from the past to the present.

Keeping them physically in two places at once, ready to cross-fade once she went back far enough…

Their dead shells would have to go back.

Loop forever through their ocean journey.

It was the only way to balance the bridge…

Across the hours, parts of her mind wandered.

Semi-delirious. Relentlessly focused.

She pictured herself in a dusty cave.

In that space between life and not-life - insisting on the unavailable choice.

Demanding it.

Enforcing it.

Remembered Arcadia.

Mornings spent running through the forest, sunlight streaming through branches.

Heading for the sounds of the ocean, waving wooden swords.

 _We were this small once…_

She caught herself. Had to remain mindful of immersion with her own movements. Didn't want to create shockwaves that would destroy the floor. Or resonate inside four ends of the two paired wormholes - with explosive results, and probably all sorts of other chain-reactive scary bad.

She was in another branch

creating tangled loops in time without her.

About her.

Pushing at her own boundaries.

 _Familiar patterns._

One day, this might be something she could do automatically, in her sleep. But it was her first time blending these kinds of forces. Two of which didn't exactly get along. One of which she hadn't practiced all that much, and only for fractions of a second when she had. She was hopeful, paid close attention to everything, but it still could go very wrong. The pitching of the boat over rough seas complicated things immensely. In the beginning, at least.

She was downtown,

at peace and joy in the swirling eye of blue…

Gifts, memories.

Lifetimes that She helped mend.

She eventually caught the rhythm of it…

Hidden, but not hidden.

She was above a barren planet.

In another set of nested shells,

spinning a biosphere back to life.

 _Another in a long line of team efforts…_

Felt the vibrations buried in the up and down movements of waves, tilting and rotating the far end. The less rapid rising and falling of tides and the spinning and drifting world she needed to match - a few of the many intersecting pattern sets. Almost trancelike, part of her was there too, aware. Felt the mass of water, rising, falling. She pushed her senses through the other side, beyond the children, beyond the ship.

 _hello…_

 _I've…always been there…_

 _Anticipate…_

She was alone. Afraid.

Dying in a dark place.

So she became the light.

Each movement a progression.

Each progression, a movement.

Like the thrum of guitar strings, curled in on themselves, spun into a spring, layered over a much larger background composition.

But there they were…

The patterns.

The patterns were the movements.

Harmonics, waves, playing inside the greater arrangements of earth and moon and sun and sky.

They were an effect. Not the cause.

The sound. Not the instrument.

The song. Not the musician.

She was here in the med-bay.

And on a ship in heavy seas.

She was the air and the sea and the waves and the world.

A force of will.

Of life.

 _If I can hold those notes together,_

 _increase the frequency of their passage,_

 _I could accelerate all of this even more without losing control…_

 _Too many souls lost forever._

 _Not these._

 _Not today._

 _Keep going._

 _Nearly there._

 _You've got this, Max._

* * *

 **Ariel** walked toward the light. Bumped the floating tray away with her shin.

It was only a few steps. A couple of seconds in all. Seemed to go on forever.

The light, warmth finally faded.

Her ears popped again.

A little disoriented as her eyes readjusted to seeing the world, dull in the absence of god-rays…

Her tray hit the ground as a wealth of small objects near Max clattered down.

She heard a small cough behind the curtain.

Wasn't Max.

Standing between them, hair plastered to her face, Max looked exhausted. She pulled at the tops of the sheets, uncovering their faces as they struggled to push them aside from below. One child sat up, head turning, confused.

Max burst into laughter, pulled both of them up to her in a giant squeezy teary-eyed hug.

Surprised, a little afraid, the first child anxiously scanned the room.

The other remained subdued. Both were clearly sick, but they were alive.

Max's voice the only sound. Happy whispers. "Found you… You're okay now. You're gonna be okay…"

The triage area was pin-quiet.

Even the med-staff were still.

One of the doctors finally broke the spell. " _Holy. Shit._ "

With that, two others found their feet, ran over with Ariel to help.

* * *

 **Max** felt the doctors pull the children away. They were too warm. Probably fever. There was a reason they didn't make it, and she only took them back to a point where there was regular breath. Any more, and they'd be moving on their own, away from each other, complicating her dance. She let the staff take over. They were here, alive. If they were still beyond help, they'd know soon enough and she could jump back to now, enforce an accelerated day or two in her own happy-field. Whatever it took.

For now, she stood back, out of the way. Thankful.

The two ex-soldiers on either side shared a silent shrug and chuckle. An accepting sort of 'WTF' that comes with the territory…

Low key, without looking at her, one held out a fist.

She bumped it out of habit.

He silently exploded it.

She pondered the journey.

How it fit.

Going back, choosing or creating paths where people lived was such an everyday thing, but this felt different.

Novel. Not an accident or instinct, rewind or loop - but another physical reality-hack.

A creative solution. An application of her mind.

And painstaking attention and effort, to be fair.

Bridging.

Felt like she'd just leveled up in some small way.

No pride in her powers, but in her invention.

Recombination.

And once she'd felt the tones, she knew she could.

In some sense, she was reminded that the universe itself was music.

Vibrations. Waves. Harmonic interactions. …effects.

Reminded, in some sense, that she was a composer, conductor and musician.

Emotion. Intention. Meaning. …cause.

Opened up another way of sensing reality, anyway…

And she'd used it for no purpose but to save two lives.

A correct path. That was important.

She felt a twinge of shame that she'd been so recently consumed by anger. Raging.

Her first thought, to physically squish the people responsible.

Special circumstances, she knew.

And she wouldn't have let herself.

Not really.

But if she had gone at them first, squishing aside, this opportunity to heal, repair, understand something new, might have been lost.

Worth remembering.

The first instinct was followed by the second thought.

In her experience, that was often the one to follow.

Another small cough.

Sensors hovered.

Max fought the urge to interfere.

They were in good hands now.

She turned. Ariel beside her, Chloe closing.

They were used to this.

…ish.

Their guests remained silent.

Another room full of strangers.

All eyes on Max.

She expected that if this worked, the reaction in the medical wing would be a repeat of the subway station in LA. A mix, equal parts fear and wonder. Uncertainty. Apprehension.

Fed a persistent reluctance.

She was prepared for it.

And in this case, it would be worth the trade.

She met their eyes, darted from face to face.

Realized she'd gotten it wrong.

This wasn't the same as that erased experiment, that long-ago subversion of acute violence.

All enclosed space and deafening and bullets and bubbles and guns…

This moment was of different construction.

Their expressions varied.

Some appeared certain they understood.

Others, certain they didn't.

But nothing in them suggested _fear_.

At least not of her.

She saw curiosity, a sort of warm acceptance…

Reconsidered.

This was the _second_ contact she'd had with them.

 _Right._

She'd been the first person into each container.

The first friendly voice, face, and the one to lead them to safety.

 _They also have more context than the subway crowd…_

To them, she was already on record as one of the good guys.

Her intentions weren't a nervous question…

Perhaps that was the difference?

The nature of the moment. Prior exposure. Intentions…

…maybe all she'd done here was show them a second act.

Another kind miracle…

* * *

 **Chloe** reached Max as their silence broke.

The first, the one who started it, was a slender woman, nearest the doorway.

She put her hands together. Paper quiet.

Another, nearby, put her hands to her lips, then joined the first in slow syncopated cadence.

More joined in. Spread from one side to the other from there.

Smaller than popcorn.

It wasn't the applause of a stage show, but of an emergency room filled with weakened patients. And all the more rousing for it. Those who couldn't clap let out a small whoop or a noise, banged a plastic spoon, anything to join in the release. Celebrating the end of their ordeal to whatever degree their experience allowed. Or their own second chances, alongside those of the children - even if they didn't completely understand.

And for any who had the presence of mind to see the bigger picture, maybe something more expansive.

That's where Chloe's mind went, anyway… Racing though possibilities. Impossibilities.

Max dropped her head, half smiling, eyes down.

Even some of their own joined in.

Ariel, Taggart, Jeffries, the med staff who weren't attending the kids.

Chloe too…proud, caught up in the moment.

Only lasted a few.

Maybe it was the changeup to zero casualties that did it, but after, it was a little like daybreak. Solemnity gave way to something more hopeful. The best sign, their guests reached out to each other, began to quietly talk amongst themselves. Glances to the exits all but erased. Least for now. Chloe overheard snippets of relief, acceptance and miracles, and shared talk of something beyond right now… For some, it was people at home. For others, it was uncertainty. For others who didn't share a common language, non-verbal still carried some universal meanings. Volumes rose. Just enough.

Chloe felt as though she knew each of them at this point. Made her happy to see the mood break. And a little sad again.

This was one boat in a very large, hidden world.

She pulled a subdued Max to one side, then into a big comfortable sloppy hug. Whispered close, "Even after all this time, Caulfield. You still manage to surprise me…"

"Pft. You and me both…"

"Have to ask - are you really okay though? Saw you do the SuperMax thing earlier…"

Max chuckled, "Yeah, it, uh…don't worry. Just needed a little…space."

Took a second to sink in.

"You're fuckin' hilarious, dude," Chloe said with a subdued laugh. "Okay, so…you know, that whole 'raising the dead' thing? I mean, that gets you…at least, I don't know, ten extra character points for utility or something, right?"

"At least," Max smiled, leaned in.

Chloe shook her head, laughed a little.

"What? What's so funny?"

"Sorry. It's just, you know once Michaels finds out, he's _never, ever_ gonna let this go…"

Max rubbed her eyes. "Oh, god, I…I know," she whispered, resigned. "Still. Worth it."

Chloe gave her a squeeze. "Yeah. But for reals, doll - nice job on this super shiny ending. This was…you…you just fuckin' amaze me. You know?"

"Well, you too, Chlo. I'm still chair of the Chloe Price fan club over here…"

"I…but…I really…I mean, I didn't think that was…Max…if you can do that…" She stopped herself before the words could spill out.

Max pulled back, met her eyes, suddenly serious. "Oh…hey…Chloe… You know. If there was ever any way I could…"

Chloe bowed her head, resting it on Max's. "I know. I do." She held a moment of hope, earlier, but deep down, she knew.

Mom's body was never found. Rachel's, newly exhumed, was in the morgue when the storm hit. Ground zero. This, what she'd just done, wouldn't work. The cemetery was untouched, so…but… _Would dad even want to come back if it meant jumping eight years into a future where mom remarried, then died? What would he make of all this?_

Chloe could be selfish, but…her mind wasn't the same as it was. Couldn't lie to herself. She knew the probabilities, knew him. Could forecast exactly how things would go. They'd have each other, and he'd be glad for that. But she'd see her mother's sadness in him every day for the rest of his life.

It would break her heart.

She couldn't be responsible for inflicting that pain and sadness on him.

That kind of loneliness.

Not knowingly.

She knew Max would try, if she asked. Without hesitation. And it was so fucking hard - took everything to not beg her right then and there. But for now, it would only be for Chloe. To see her dad again. She knew she couldn't put him through the rest. Not for herself.

She squeezed Max a little tighter.

Let out a breath.

 _I'm sorry._

 _Maybe someday… we'll find some way…_

 _But…only if you can have each other back too…_

* * *

 **Chloe** stuck her head into the large makeshift pillow-fort. Softly, "Hey. Max - zero hour. Time to wind the frog."

Max looked up from her book. "Hey. Um. Been a…roller-coaster morning. For everyone. Think I'm gonna sit this next one out though. If that's okay? I mean, you were looking for an excuse to test your new ROC anyway, right?"

"Remotely Operated Chloe - cute. Yeah, she's not really ready for prime time yet. But…it's cool. Guess I could use the recreation myself after being cooped up. You sure you don't want in, though? Friendly bop on the bad guy's heads? Little closure?"

"Nah, I'm good. Feel like I'm right where I oughta be for that, you know? Not just about mine."

Chloe smiled, gave a nod. "Fair enough. Whatcha readin'?"

Max held up the book like it was a stone tablet. "Little Prince."

"Oh, man. Freakin' loved that book." One of the kids in the circle inside the fort waved at Chloe. She stuck her hand in, waved back. "If we're not taking AirMax, is it okay if we ping you for a little wormhole action when we're ready? Save some travel time."

"Course."

"A'aight. I'll catch you up on everything later. Have fun."

"K. And…thanks, Chlo. You too. Oh, hey, wait. Um, you know this was only a little piece of bigger moonlighting thing…and…I was…"

"Hours ahead of you." Chloe waved her goodbyes, backed out into the triage area.

Ariel waited for her by the elevator. "She coming?"

Chloe shook her head. "She's in a good place."

* * *

 **Chloe** examined the spare floor they'd been using as a nexus to run their moonlighting op. Couple dozen volunteers, their huddle of active workstations and VR drone-control pods dwarfed by the vast empty floor around them. Mostly dark. Faces floated in holo-light. Morning sun was still hours away.

Chloe, over her shoulder, "Ari, what's your C2 flavor?"

Ariel pointed. "Concentric. With a right-core bias. Used to be more of a traditional front-and-center, but, you know, Michaels converted me a while back."

Chloe nodded. For someone limited to two eyes in one head, it was an efficient layout for command and control - everything visible from one spot. She kicked on overhead lights just right of center, a third of the distance out from the central core of the building. Pulled inactive workstations and control pods from the side walls, lifting, rotating them through the air in a short little dance, bringing them to rest in a precise ring shape around the column of light. Then another, larger, farther out, and yet another beyond. Chairs dropped in as holos came to life, each station with its own internal micro-reactor and network nodes. "Should be enough to get started. Facilities can finish the rest when they get in tomorrow…"

Chloe didn't have any other living telekinetics to compare to, but she strongly suspected that even within such an historically rare group, she was an outlier. Power levels aside, her artificially induced TK abilities developed alongside her augments and bio-alterations. The three in concert allowed a level of concentration, computational finesse and physical precision that was probably unprecedented. Macro or micro. A few seconds to assemble a floor layout was a minor, low complexity effort.

She took the center position with Ariel. Others in the room were drawn by the commotion; she gave them time to gather before addressing the group. "Hey, everybody. Thanks. Um, so first - I just wanna say that you guys are legit fuckin' rockstars. For reals. I love each and every one of you, and this world deserves you way more than we do. So…thanks…"

Chloe blinked. Every detail of the operation was there for her. She selected, while other parts of her went to work in the background. The air lit up as holos exploded out from center to line the far walls. The ship, Max's container jumps, maps with tracks from their own surveillance, the patients in triage, teammates helping at every stage, more. "You all know what went down last loop, and where we netted out in this one. Happy to confirm - hundred percent recovery. No casualties…"

They broke into cheers, quickly quieted down. She could see it in their eyes. Relief, pride, lack of sleep, curiosity.

She continued, "Couple of things. We know this was only a small piece of your volunteer efforts. And maybe in the grand scheme of things…well, you've all stuck with it through the craziness and batshit cosmic news of the past few weeks, so you get it. It's still important. The battles we choose, they say something about why we fight… And in the end, I think maybe that can be as important as winning the wars."

The holos rolled sideways, broke apart, consolidated into a single room-spanning feed of the cargo ship, plowing through stormy seas. They stood like Kaiju, waist-deep in the rolling sea of light. Chloe motioned to the vessel. "Still out there. It's a tiny transport. But it represents a critical part of this fucked up chain of horrible that has no place in our world. Couple hours 'til we're in sunlight here. Between now and then, we're gonna take the ship. We need intel on the senders and receivers. How it all fits into their network. Manifest is bullshit, but they might have files or logs or shadow manifests on board. Very least, they'll have something in their heads. Whatever. We'll get it. But then, come sunrise - we're shutting this little moonlighting operation of yours down."

The holo vanished, leaving Chloe and Ariel alone in an island of light.

Confused looks, furrowed brows, murmurs.

Dave spoke up, "Ari? What's going on? I don't understand. I thought…"

Ariel looked to Chloe, eyes bright.

Wheels already in motion.

Chloe shrugged. _All you, dude._

Ariel scanned her teammates. "Mission's been promoted to a live, priority-one op. Full resource. Full staff - three shifts, plus two extra tactical teams and dedicated talent support. We're done watching from the sidelines guys. We have green-light for the network takedown. Global. End to end. Wherever it leads."

"Whoa…"

"Seriously?"

"Fuck. Yes."

"…'bout goddamn time…"

New holos shot from the center in a rapid, seemingly endless stream, spraying out into twenty concentric rings, each stacked five high, circling around, floor to tall-ceiling. Layers, shells, rotating, shifting. Room filling, bright. All of the surveillance they'd accumulated to date across their investigations. Records. Profiles. Transcripts. Reports. Lines drawing between them through space, linking people, networks of shell companies. Plus, a few hundred terabytes of new inter-connections, archived video, shadow financial transactions, intercepts, and missing persons reports Chloe layered in with just a few minutes of core effort, using the cumulative records of their efforts to date as a starting point.

One of the volunteers, Gareth, raised his hand, asked, "This is lovely but - quick elephant check - what's our protocol? For dealing with the bad apples, I mean? It's one thing to use our spare cycles to drop intel back to inquiring locals, but, actually _taking it all down?_ Don't misquote, enjoy the idea, but…secret wars aside, we're not part of any recognized legal system. We're not international police, judges or jailers. We don't have any authority - none that others are like to recognize at any rate - and we are talking about a non-trivial head-count across national borders…and…"

Chloe jumped in, "Okay, first thing, so we're clear - working the bad guys is a means to locate and rescue any and all captive victims. They have to be our first priority. If there's a choice between saving a person and nailing a bad guy, person wins. …you know, sorry - let me back up. This'll make more sense if I start at the top.

"Team ranks will fill out over the next few days as people volunteer, and as we make assignments to fill gaps. We'll hold off the full kickoff briefing 'til then. Mean-time - here's the TL;DR for you guys so you kind-of get the scope of the SOPs.

"You said it - we don't have any authority other than what we give ourselves. That's cool for team support, intel, covert-ops, event-based preventive interdictions, or where we have local friendlies to hand bad actors to, like here at home. And this is criminal, humanitarian, and expansively international in scope. So, the executive board and legal teams have been busy these past couple hours on a framework.

"As of 9AM Pacific, this floor will be incorporated as a private intelligence and operational advisory group, acting on behalf of the Subcommittee of Trafficking of Persons, under the legal authority of the Human Rights Council of the United Nations. Officially, we'll be an unnamed private contractor under their direction and leadership - staffers. Just anonymous arms and legs in an undisclosed building somewhere."

Someone laughed, "…and unofficially?"

Chloe put her hand on her hip. "We own global command and control, coordinating everyone involved in the investigation and takedown of this distributed trafficking operation. Buyers too. Like I said, search and rescue mission first. But carrying UN business cards grants us cooperation from a hundred-and-ninety member countries - intelligence, military, national and local police, as well as active, cooperative access to INTERPOL's network. They have the mandate, authority and relationships, but they're way too light on resources for something like this. It's a good fit. You guys were already part-way there with them, so we shared some of what happened this morning during our discussion - civilian version anyway…offered to step up. We drive the outcome, they take the glory when it's done.

"We've always known cooperation was the best way to scale for this kind of op. We weren't starting from scratch on the language this morning. It's the right play. We're in the best position to cut through to the truth of things given our range of capabilities. And the deal leverages the reach and infrastructure of global law enforcement for their local expertise, jurisdiction and boots on the ground we don't have. Subcommittee and locals get spotlight, we stay out of it, bad guys go away, captive victims get rescued around the world. Winning."

She looked out to see more than a few stunned expressions.

Gareth asked, "So we're just scaling up our intel delivery to locals proactively, or how will this work?"

"We're still working on our IRT certs for tactical. It's a formality, but critical if our tac teams wanna go outside and play with the same cards." Chloe paced, shrugged. "Short version - we can see and do more than anyone else. And from what little I've seen, funds coming back from the trade are funneling all over the place. Entwined with drug operations, funding terrorism, arms, laundered through otherwise legitimate businesses, lining pockets all along the way. It's likely we're gonna be bumping up against a ton of other investigations at all levels - intel and coordination are gonna be critical, but no, they're not the whole game."

Another pushed through to the front. "Wait, go back. You're really serious, aren't you? We're taking lead, with the UN and INTERPOL's _entire network_ backing us? How the hell did we pull that off?"

Chloe leaned against a workstation. Shrugged. "Relationships. You all had a few low-level contacts inside the HRC lined up around this already, so we went farther upstream. And back in our earliest days, we brought a few peeps from other subcommittees over the wall on pieces of the real big picture. Stuff from T-zero. Quietly. Specific lists of future events and trends for disaster relief, disease research, and so on. They all vouched for us here. And…we might've kinda doubled the annual budget of the trafficking subcommittee. And, you know, INTERPOL as a whole, so…things are moving quickly. Kinda shocked how small their budgets were, by the way, but that's another story. Zero push back. Anyway - like I was saying, we're not technically cleared for enforcement deployments until we get incident-response certified - downside of going by their book on this, but we can push the boundaries of 'investigator and advisor' pretty hard 'til then."

A voice behind her. "How long?" Taggart. He walked in from the core, trailing another twenty silent shadows. Fresh pre-dawn volunteers.

Ariel nodded a welcome. "The delta's only a few days. Week at most. Meanwhile, we'll find stuff for you to do. We'll need help working with national coast guards, military, intelligence services, as well as state and local LE, depending. You guys are better with their protocols…"

"In other cases, what they don't know…" shrugged Chloe. "But for everyone, be professional, continue to build relationships. Impressions matter. At some future point, we're gonna bump into some of our more adversarial networks out there in the wild, and it'll be good to have some track record and personal trust established with other good guys out there."

Another volunteer cautioned, "Speaking of…at least a few foreign politicians are in bed with local crime bosses who have a role, and even some of those LE guys on the ground are bought and paid for… Professional blind eyes."

Another added, "Some of the buy-side we've seen are well connected too… At least one repeat buyer is a first-cousin to a head of state…"

"Then we take their names," Chloe responded. "I know this is tangled, but it's our job to know who they are. They'll fall squarely in the 'bad guy' camp. If corruption's part of the problem, and we know it is, calling it has to be part of the action. We're objective, but hardly neutral. Strictest LE evidence protocols. We have an audience for it and inherit the mandate. If we hit walls, we escalate. Hit too many, we'll revisit strategy. Look, all of this is a means to an end. _Our_ end. Long term plan, their trade's obsolete by architecture. But short term? Honestly? It makes my heart sick that there's still assholes out there doing shit like this to people."

"Welcome to the party, boss," said one.

"Why we're here…" added another.

Chloe continued, "We're small, but you guys already proved we can do something to help. And maybe it's a drop in the bucket; it's only one shipment from one network. But there's sixty people here this morning, unique and alive, who get to see their families and friends again. Have some say in the direction of their lives. They're just normal people, trying to make their way, you know? It's a giant fucking win - and to you guys that have been with it, that's all you. But…I mean…it _is_ a drop in the bucket. So, I'm so very sorry we're late. This is a case where you're leading, and we're following. But we are following."

After a considered silence, Dave offered, "Well. It's not as though the world only has _one_ problem in need of attention."

Others agreed.

"Still. This…is a battle worth choosing." Chloe stood. "There's more people who need help out there - caught at all points in their fucked up little supply chain. And certainly, an even larger number held captive at the end-points, some probably going on years. We've got help from nearly every law enforcement agency on the planet. Find them. Help 'em find home."

A comment from the back. "This is all great. But, respectfully, we know some of the participants are too high up in their own food chains. Protected. Calling them out won't change that if the same locals are handling enforcement."

"Of course. Protocol will be a mix for edge cases… But no one's above consequence. Again, I'm gonna be super clear - they're buying and selling people - kids, for fuck's sake. By any moral compass, by global treaties and under international law, these are rightly recognized as crimes against humanity. There is _no_ legal safe haven for any of them. And _we are_ the green light now. Go as high up their food chain as you need to. You don't need permission - job comes with it. If someone turns out to be truly untouchable, we have our own tac teams and the international courts. We take the evidence to the Subcommittee. Anyone lands uphill of that, use best judgement, but… Look, I don't wanna say that we answer to a higher power or anything, but given who we are and what we know, I do believe we have a greater responsibility to everyone to do everything we can. Don't we?" Chloe asked.

"And…you know, robots and spaceships and superpowers and shit…" Ariel added, casually counting off on her fingers.

Laughter.

Taggart shrugged. "I'll say it. I'm pretty damn sure we answer to a higher power."

A few nods.

Chloe finished, "So…yeah. Either way. They're not protected. Not from us."

Nods, claps and more.

"Alright. Let's rescue some peeps and make some bad guys really super sad. You have the bridge, Ari. Feel free to nominate co-leads, in or out of the team - but sleep needs to be a part of the day to day from now on. This is a professional operation, folks. We'll rely on you guys to bring the influx of new teammates up to speed as they're transferred in, real kickoff in a day or two. That's it for the 'what' for now. As to the 'how'… Let's meet back here in 30? Push through to the sun? I need to wake up few peeps before we drop in all unannounced to kick this shindig off."

* * *

 **Sophie** leaned the bicycle against the back of the bench. A little after lunchtime. Students scurried to their afternoon classes. She grabbed her book, water and apple from the basket. The skies were grey, temperatures a few degrees above freezing, but she didn't mind. Benefit of tapping the local hive mind, she'd dressed for the day as though she'd lived here her whole life.

She relaxed along a wide section of natural canal, reflections of bare branches in the water rippling with the breeze. The University was all around her, but the nearest building was a few hundred meters behind. It was peaceful. Grasses and shrubs were overgrown along the roads and bike trails, but such abundant greenery was a welcome change from the desert.

Thoughts of mathematics, history, philosophy and art were written in the air. Among others she paid less attention to.

She kept an eye on the events unfolding back at HQ too. Most people were still asleep, but she cycled through those who were up. Had a good sense of where things were.

Her phone vibrated. She took it from her pocket. Caller ID read 'Chloe'. She tapped to answer.

After a brief delay, the screen read, "Soph?"

"Hello, Chloe. Hanging up now." She tapped again, disconnected to rejoin through her telepathic link.

 _Hello again, Chloe. I'm happy to see everyone is safe. You know all of them now. That's good. They can get where they need to be. And Max…wow. What she did was nothing short of awe inspiring, but…complicated emotions around that for you. Of course, yes, your parents. And your friend. I know - who was lost to you while she was held captive by another. I'm starting to understand what all of this is to you. I'm sorry - I wasn't prying, but it's all very close to the surface._

 _Don't sweat it, Soph. I'm very aware. And it's not like we keep a lot of secrets from our favorite camp counsellor anyway._

 _You called for a reason. How might I help?_

 _You already know what I'm gonna think, right?_

 _Yes, but it's courtesy as much as habit I suppose._ Sophie shrugged to herself.

 _No need. But if you wouldn't mind?_

 _No, it's okay. Let me connect the others. Max, Hector, Ariel. Hey Ty. And Mr. Taggart - welcome - we're linked with Chloe. Hello everyone._

Chloe kicked things off. _My fellow insomniacs…_

 _Some of us are just early risers_. Sophie's view through Ty's eyes put him in one of the gyms.

 _Speak for yourself. Just wanted a quick sync with those of us who are… wait…why do I taste apples? Sophie?_

 _Sorry Chloe. Guilty._ Sophie covered her mouth, as if that would somehow help.

 _Hey. Soph. How's Hamsterdam?_

 _Funny, Hector. And I'm only partway through season 2. No spoilers! But it's so good! We still need to catch up, you know._

Chloe interrupted. _Dudes. Focus?_

Metaphoric whistling, looking around.

Chloe continued, projecting her data-infused image of the ship to all of them in real-time. _Anyway, here's the deal. There's eighteen assholes on the boat._ _Most are clustered here in the main superstructure under the bridge or down in engineering, but a few are on walkabout. I'm mostly interested in any drives or docs at this point. Bridge or living quarters maybe? Dunno. Don't want to give them a warning, or a chance to destroy anything._

Hector broke in. _So…wait - this mean you're doing a solo speed-run?_

 _That's what I was thinking. I can go in quiet. The engine room and bridge get a little tricky. More of them in tight spaces. But, whatevs, I'll use it. Once I've cleared the ship, you guys can follow behind, properly secure the crew while we bring in imaging and forensics for the tear-down. With me so far?_

Hector broke in again. _Hold up, Chloe. Sorry. What's the over-under on total time, Ty?_

 _Huh. Let's see. That's a manageable space, but it spreads people across more than ten levels. Big dudes, but not strapped. Open stairwells for easy movement. Top down, gravity assist shaves some time off. But the drifters out in the edges add a little… Flat-out run, I say…2:1 she's under two minutes._

 _Really? And if we take away the arc rounds and drones?_

 _Dude. It's Chloe. Still under, man._

 _Alright. I'll take you up on those odds, vato._

' _Vato' now, huh? lol._

 _Ty. Dude. Did you really take the time to spell out 'lol' instead of just, you know, laughing like a normal person? Need help, man…_

Chloe waved metaphorical arms. _Uh, guys - I'm right here?_

Sophie took another bite of her apple. _Fun. Okay, I'm in too. Winners call the losers' songs on karaoke night?_

 _Deal. And yeah, let's catch up once you get back, Soph. Been too long. Sis said 'hi', btw. Few weeks late, but… What about you Max?_

 _You know better, Hector. I'll never bet against Chloe. And I hope you enjoy singing about ponies in front of strangers._

 _Right here? Just…standing here. Is this thing even on?_ Sophie heard a dull sound, like Chloe was tapping her own head.

Taggart mentally shrugged. _I'm really not sure what's happening._

 _Alright, Max - and I hope you like 80's hair-ballads. Cause that's where we're goin'… Tokyo. Hairbands. It's on. Ariel? Pick a side. Wisely._

 _You know, I have so much respect for you, Chloe, but that's a lot of ground to cover. As a practical matter, I'm going to have to align myself with Hector on this one I think. One tiny delay, and… I mean. Not that I've ever been to karaoke with you guys… And not presuming to invite myself or anything, but…_

Sophie giggled. _It's okay, Ariel. We've been trying to put this together for a while. And I hope, then, that you also like the songs of ponies._

 _John is gonna be so sad he slept through this,_ thought Max.

Ty agreed. _Snoozers lose._

Hector thought, _John and Tracey can be line judges maybe. Don't think the competition's over today. Tokyo. You're goin' down, Caulfield. And no rewinds. That's cheating._

 _Yeah, yeah._

 _You know, fuck it. You guys can work this shit out yourselves. Not sure what I expected. Taggart you're paying attention - maybe you, Jeffries and a few teammates can track progress and follow my path in?_

 _Of course. We're geared up on 23, standing by, ma'am. Got your back._

 _Cool. Wait… Dude. No ma'am-ing? Please? Ever? Hey - Max, can you drop a wormhole near the bow?_

 _Um, I could put one up high? Don't you think you'd be faster? Starting from up top, I mean? Gravity, and…? Like Ty said? You know…not that that matters for anything or anything?_

 _Hey!_

 _Cheating! No! That's cheating!_

 _We're not having this conversation, Max._

 _Fine, Chlo. Pooper. One bow wormhole, comin' up…_

* * *

 **Chloe** dropped through the dark sphere, landed on the pitching deck twenty feet below. _You guys are idiots._

 _Yeah, we're uh, all still here, Chlo…_

 _Oh, I know. :P Wouldn't have said it otherwise. Whatever. Fine. Hector - when does the timer start? First takedown?_

Hector grinned in her mind. _You'll share Max's fate either way. I'll give you that as your head-start. Clock starts with your first takedown._

 _Alright, my dudes. I wanna get a feel for the ship before I start. Gimmie a few?_

 _Take your time powerpuff. You can hair-band it in front of salarymen with Max later._

 _Wow… So that's how it is? I was on the fence, but now? Ponies, dude. Wear it. Hangin' up._

She broke the link, a little annoyed at their banter and playfulness if she was honest. She understood the need for balance, but she'd spent the last couple hours advising on the framework, getting to know their guests, going over the network intel… This was all some pretty dark shit. _Don't be too grouchy. They're still high on the happy ending this morning… You've just got a closer view of the work to come. And not much distance…_

Still on comms with HQ. She streamed directly from the four drones tracking the ship, incorporating their light field and sensory data into her own vision. She saw herself through the thick rain. Dark hair, black tank top, dark jeans. Her holo interface extinguished. She was a dark smudge against the red paint of the deck, obscured in the heavy rain, moving along the small central runway between containers. Clouds were grey, seas active. She unconsciously measured as the ship flexed lengthwise from one wave to the next. Tracked the shapes of crew members in the wireframe.

The mid-ocean rain was colder than she expected. Louder too. Vindictive drops fell hard on fields of hollow metal, booming, echoing. _No wonder they're all exhausted. No way to sleep through this shit._ She felt the rhythmic resistance to forward movement below her feet, a slight hang pushing back with each new wave. The vibration of the engines plodded somewhere ahead and below.

She passed through the stacks, toward the bridge castle. Stark white, ten stories high. Lights on each of the bridge-wings far above, one red, one green. Water ran in sheets down the flat front of the structure, splashing at the lower edges of dark window breaks. The bridge perched at the top; crew living and workspaces lurked below, engineering farther down. The construct was the heart of the ship, three quarters of the way to the stern.

She'd been walking slowly between bulkheads. Dragging the fingertips of her right hand along the ribbed side walls of the steel containers. Wet. Numb with cold. Slip, thump. Slip. Thump. Little bit of a squeak if she pressed with her fingertips. Left a crease if she pressed too hard.

She could warm herself up, but it was only right - to feel a little of what they felt. Sympathetic resonance.

In the bulkhead in front of her, a doorway. Hatch. Open. Two men leaned inside, just out of the rain, smoking, laughing. Bare lightbulb glowed at them warmly. Chloe continued forward in the downpour. Blue-grey. Reflections breaking upside down on the deck, puddles flowing this way, then that.

Slip, thump.

Hair flat against her head, falling like seaweed at her neck. Skin chilled to goosebumps. Clothes soaked through, sagging under the weight of water. She moved like a pale drowned goddess.

One of the men squinted, finally noticed. Sharply, he called out, "Hey. You there. Come here. How did you get out?"

The other spoke into a handheld walkie, "We've got one loose - someone go outside and check the boxes!"

Chloe continued toward them. Twenty feet. Ten. Slip. Thump. Shuffle. Splash.

The first man looked to the other, then back to Chloe. "Different from the regular girls."

The other shrugged. "What 'regular'? They always look different to me. Of course, to you they look the same - you only see their asses…"

"Well, since she's out…"

"As you say." The second smirked, took a drag, cherry glowing bright orange-red. Exhaled thick smoke. "Why not. They pay us to move them. She's still moving when we dock, what does it matter?"

Chloe leaned in against the edge of the open hatch. Rust bursting through old paint, rubbing cold, rough grains into her exposed shoulder.

"Captain always takes a favorite. Only fair." He looked her up and down.

The other did the same. "She doesn't seem afraid. Maybe she likes us."

"Come. Get out of the rain, stupid girl. Let's get you out of those wet clothes. Warm you up. You like that?" The crewman looked down at her, speaking louder. As though she didn't understand his language, and more volume would bridge the gap. His breath stank like a neglected tooth. "It's what you're for. Better get used to this where you're going, eh?"

Chloe met his eyes. Nothing.

"There she is. I think she likes that. You come with us. We teach you. Get you all warmed up. Show you a good time, yes?" He reached out, grabbed her upper arm roughly. Pulled her off balance through the door. Her foot caught the lower lip of the hatch. She let herself fall, rotating. He reached down, unconcerned, grabbed her wrist and turned away. Continued to pull her along the floor on her back, dragging behind. The other flicked his cigarette butt outside. It hissed and died in a cold puddle. He closed the hatch and followed. She watched the way the second man looked down at her, trailing them.

Remembered the girl who held her hand. Squeezing.

Calloused fingers were locked tight, her back scraped along the gritty floor.

 _Yeah._

 _That's about enough of this shit._

Chloe wrapped her own hand around the wrist of the man dragging her.

Squeezed.

Small sounds. Distant. Like popcorn.

He stopped, screamed in surprise and pain as the bones of his wrist broke, ground together inside under the force of her still-closing grip.

She released him. He fell, rapidly backed away, kicking, sheltering his shattered arm against his chest, eyes wide. She picked herself up with a graceful fluidity, dusted off, addressing them calmly in their native tongue, "You know, I was willing to give you assholes benefit of the doubt. Thinking, maybe you didn't know. Maybe it was just a few." She shrugged. The trailing man halted an arm's length behind, somewhere between fight or flight, unsure what was happening. "Thanks, I guess…makes this easier."

Her left arm holo flared back to life as she re-established her mental connection to Sophie's link.

 _Hey. Hector. Start the fucking clock._

The world slowed as her perception sped up. Faster than a person could move, she closed with the trailing man. Cradled the side of his head gently in her palm, his hair falling out between her fingers. Paused. Imaged his skull and brain with a radio pulse, slammed it sideways into the bulkhead. Into, but not through. Measured force. Checked the thickness. He'd wake up with a concussive headache, but he'd wake up. _Probably more than you deserve, fuckwit._

She looked back over her shoulder. Smiled.

Floating inches above her left wrist, a holographic numeric countdown timer. Blocky digits in amber light. _1:59_. Higher up her arm, a drop counter incremented forward. _01_. She left it there, visible, persistent. Triggered the playlist in her head. Hard electronica beats mixed over Swedish death-metal. Flooded her mind to set the pace. Fast. Chaotic. Dark.

She turned. Shot forward.

The other man scrambled up and away on his good arm, stumbled forward in an attempted run in ultra-slow motion. She added her momentum to his as she passed, a little push redirected him into an open door with a crunch. Head. Collarbone.

Her counters ticked up and down.

 _02\. 1:58._

She broke into a fast, hard run.

* * *

 **Ariel** dropped the link in favor of live comms. Went full view, filling half the ops floor. Practicality aside, everyone here wanted to see. External of the ship, plus metadata. Red dots for crew. Green for unconscious crew. Blue for Chloe. On the move. Her blue dot was closer to a dash.

 _Fuck, she's fast._

Ariel felt a cold gust of wind. Beyond the holo of the ship, the connecting wormhole hung in space halfway to the outer end of the ops floor. Bent grey clouds, sea - rain pouring through. Someone ran off a few minutes ago, searching for an inflatable pool to put under it. Apparently, there were a few in some closet or another, along with a sump and coiled drain hoses. Ariel was surprised that she wasn't more surprised they had a contingency for rainy indoor wormholes.

Chloe's blue dash passed another red one. It turned green as the blue kept going. Down two levels in a fast spiral. Another green. Engineering levels. Open catwalk. Six red dots, four together, two more scattered. Two changed to green at the same time without moving. Two more split up. Blue and red became purple. Then cyan. Blue rebounded off the next like a pinball, moved away, leaving greens. It went like that.

Ariel looked to the counter on her own watch.

 _45 seconds in._

 _Ten down. Eight to go?_

 _Jesus fucking Christ…_

Taggart, across the holo, wormhole-side, must have noticed her expression. He nodded toward the dots. "She's held top of the leaderboards - obstacle course, urban live fire, hand to hand, three-gun - long as we've had 'em. Beyond fast. Every moment a purpose. Never misses. Only Navarro's ever come close. It's a…comical gap to the number three slots. And some of these guys, they're the elite of the elite…"

Ariel shook her head. "I mean, I know…well, I've heard all this stuff, you know…but…"

He chucked, seemed to understand. "First time? Running one of 'em direct?"

"I guess, yeah. Spent an hour on team support once. After the shooting on New Year's, but…"

He nodded. "…it's different in real time. You were there for the light show earlier…Max? …and after. I mean, I've worked with a few talents…another life. These two, well…they bring a _whole other level_ of unreal."

"No joke. I'm just really, really glad they're on our side," she mused.

He paused, considered. Asked, "Got kids?"

"No. I, uh… No danger of that…not for a while, you know? You?" Semi-automatic response. Her eyes tracked the blue dash.

He got quiet. "Two baby girls. Weird little biscuits. They take over your life, you know, just…become center. Can't imagine… Anyway, they're gonna grow up in this world. Outside. It'll all be theirs someday. What we leave behind, that's all they inherit. So, I'm here for them. You said…that you're glad they're on _our_ side…Max and Chloe."

"Aren't you?" She smiled. "I mean, we'd be so completely screwed if they were the bad guys… Or neutral…"

"I see it different. I'm guessing I'm some older than you. Worked for a lot of people over the years. Different outfits. Missions. All okay, but…never really _believed_ in any of them. God and country came the closest… Others didn't really matter, so…didn't need to. Anyway, wife and I, we were here in Vegas couple of years back. Would have been inside the perimeter. Ground zero. Slept right through it. Wasn't 'til later, here, that I found out what almost happened. Scared me in a way I can't describe. Would have been the end for my whole family. Every possible future…erased.

"That's what Max and Chloe mean to me. I'm sure they have no idea, but they saved all four of us. Everything they've done, everything they stand for - it's aligned with a bright happy world for my little girls. I believe in this mission. In them. And so, it's a subtlety, but here's the difference for me; I'm proud as hell for the opportunity to be on _their_ _side._ "

Ari nodded. She was here for different reasons, but the threads were common enough among co-workers. "True enough."

Her eyes followed the blue dot as it raced back up the stairwell.

* * *

 **Chloe** jumped back up the stairs. Pulling on railings and pushing off steps, she cleared half a level with each burst. Everything below main deck was clear. There were four people up top on the bridge, leaving four scattered on levels between. Two in a workout room, two in the mess. One of those was heading for the hallway above.

She rounded a corner at the top of the stairs, pushed off the wall to make the turn. Door opened on the other side. She threw her body through the opening, into the shirtless man. She went down with him; his head bounced off the floor. She kept rolling. Under a table, kicked up, throwing it into the face of the eating man. Corn flakes. Milk. Spray. Hang time. Slid through, out the other side, up the stairs on the other end.

12\. :55.

Kept racing up. Forward.

Through the door of the exercise room. Pieces of it hit one of them. Disoriented. She straight-punched the other. Head snapped back. Dropped. Turned fast, caught the disoriented dude with an elbow to the back of the head. Went down with his weights.

Out again, hard turn, up the stairs.

Bridge door. Closed.

Passive sensing, through the door.

Multispectral.

Something close.

Active pulse.

Reflection - shotgun waiting at head height.

Crouched low. Opened. Shotgun blast kicked the door, penetrated above, tore a ragged hole. Pushed all the way open, dove through. Surveillance cam piped to the bridge. Shotgun was a fluke. Something they had. Four. One close, two far side, one between.

 _Shotgun first._ She rose, slow motion, but faster than his slow motion. Took hold of the barrel with one hand, his chest with the other, lifting up, applied voltage - arcs coursed through him. Powder ignited, the weapon jerked, sending shot harmlessly toward the ceiling. Watched the flash leave the barrel. Released her grip. He fell slowly. She twirled, striking the crewman beyond him with the back of her hand. Under the jaw, sideways and up. Out cold. The first still hadn't hit the deck.

She ran, threw herself sideways through the air, tucking, barreling toward the next nearest man, bouncing him off the back wall with her body.

A desk. Books, folders. Ledger. Logs? Open.

One man remained.

She slowed her perception, back to real-time. He rushed her. Big dude. Close. Swinging. Hit air. She body bumped him, adding to his own momentum. He flailed to the deck. She rolled her eyes. Bored. Turned away, toward the logs, lifted him with her mind, set his head near the center of an accelerating flat spin until he passed out.

Through comms she said, "Clear." His body thumped down behind her as she flipped through the log.

18\. :22.

Sophie and Max cheered in her head. She had a visual of Ty nodding along in sage fashion. Like it wasn't even a question.

Hector was crickets.

Over comms, Ariel said, "Fine piece of work. …sending cleanup through now. Forensics in five." Chloe squinted out through the bridge wipers. Couldn't see much forward through the rain in visible light. Drone view showed team members dropping down a thick back rope, emerging from the bottom of the wormhole. Working their way along the trail of unconscious bodies with zip-ties.

Hector broke his mental silence. _Okay. That was tight…_

Chloe slumped into the captain's chair, propped her feet up. Sighed. _Not really. No weapons. Well, one weapon. No training. They might as well have been NPCs with casual-mode algorithms. That was pure idiot-golf, dude._

 _Still._

 _No, seriously - only thing I was fighting was the clock. And to be honest, I could have shaved twenty-four seconds if I'd come with arc rounds._

 _No, that's cool - if you don't want the win…_

 _Oh, don't get me wrong. You're singing your fuzzy little rainbow heart out come karaoke night…_

Max laughed in her head. Chloe saw bright bubbles of happy.

Hector thought, _Well, least I won't be alone up there. Shit, Ariel's not linked anymore, is she?_

 _Nope. You're on your own._

Max's brightness. _Too bad, too. Exiled from Team Chloe… Cold place to be… ;-)_

Chloe leafed through the heavy green log. Quick scanning, looking for patterns. Tossed it aside. Certificates on the wall. Framed picture of the ship in some port or another. Binders clipped into shelves along the back. Stepped over two unconscious crew-mates. Usual stuff. Maps, port depth charts, emergency systems and procedures, navigation frequencies… nothing useful. Nav history. Manifests. Nothing there that deviated from official records they'd already pulled.

Over comms, "Nothing obvious on the bridge. This might take a while."

The last crewman to go down moved as the blood settled back into his head. His eyes, unfocused, rolled around. Finally found Chloe. He blinked a few times, tried to sit up.

Switching languages, Chloe asked, "Are you going to behave, or do we need to hit you on the head repeatedly with heavy objects until you stop moving?"

He held his hands out in a disinterested surrender. Shook his head. Sat up and scooted until his back was up against a wall. Elbows on his knees, he watched. Finally asked, "Who are you? Why are you here? What do you look for?"

"…second thought…" She gave his head a small telekinetic bounce off the wall. He slumped forward, leaned precariously to one side before eventually toppling over.

"I don't need to hear from you."

Couple from the tac team got to the bridge. She skimmed personnel files through the wormhole. "Hey Steve. Lana. Four here. You get the guys downstairs?"

"Yes, Mrs. Price. We split up into a few teams. These are the last four," Lana answered, as they worked zip ties on wrists and ankles.

Over her earpiece, Ariel's voice. "Chloe, forensics and imaging teams are coming through now. We can take it from here. You should get some rest… Thank you. Both of you. For everything…"

"Heading back." Chloe stood up, stretched, yawned. "It's been brought."

* * *

 **Max** snuck out of the fort. Kids were all blanketed up and tuckered out. _Mission accomplished._ She made her way through the dimly lit triage area, where many of the others had also found sleep.

 _Soph? Can I get a private channel to Chloe?_

 _Of course. Chloe, you're on privately with Max._

 _Hey, Chlo._

 _Hey Maxi. Was just gonna do the same. Headin' back to crash out. Feels like only five hours ago we were eating midnight noodles, right?_

 _That's cause we were eating midnight noodles like, five hours ago. Weirdo._

 _That was the joke dot com._

 _You're a dot com. Take a detour. Meet me up on the roof? We should celebrate the happy endings and a new sunrise with hot cocoa before passing out._

 _Sounds planlike. Wanna stop by medical first though… Check in._

 _Just leaving. Half are asleep, more on the way out. They're okay for now. Come up when you get back. I'll have half a blanket waiting for you._

 _K. Gimmie a few then. On foot._

Max pressed the button for the roof. Leaned. Waited. _That'll give me time to heat up the milk. :)_

 _You rule. I think there's still some baby marshmallows in the cupboard by the grill up there. Survivors of 'The Tiny S'mores Incident'?_

 _OMG, that was so sad. Second they got warm, they slid right off the tines to a fiery, goopy doom…_

 _Glad we didn't have to clean it up. They'll have better survival odds in hot chocolate. And then, right into my belly._

 _So true! They can float together. Like sugary friends in a little marshmallow hot tub. Of chocolate. You know, 'til they get surprise digested. But…them's the breaks in the 'mallow life…_ The elevator door opened to the rooftop. Max walked out, heading for the open-air kitchen area by the pool. Hummed quietly in her head as she poured fresh whole milk into a pot, turned on the stovetop.

Chloe, after a minute, more serious. _…it's not over yet._

 _I know. Neither's our team, silly. They've got it. Sophie gave me the download. Deal we hammered out. That's huge… I mean, there's way more honest, competent, everyday good guys around the world than there are bad guys. Just need a little focus on the problem, our kind of intel, and some help coordinating with each other across borders is all. I feel so good about this._

 _Still wanna keep an eye on things…_

Max scooped a little extra cocoa into each mug, stirred in the hot milk, breaking the clumps of cocoa powder against the side with the bottom of her spoon. Watched the vortex form, steam rising above. Plopped a handful of mini-marshmallows into each. They swirled to a stop. She carried the mugs to the small tables on each side of the chaise lounge by the pool.

 _You will. Like you do everything else…_ She pulled a soft fuzzy blanket from under-seat storage, unfurled it. _Team will let us know if there's something we can help with. Like they did this morning. For now - you, me, sunrise. Hot cocoa. Chill time. We did good. :D_

There was a hint of less dark, off to the east.

Max looked to the horizon. Took a quick sip.

The stars began to fade as the night gave way to dawn.

 _I know, Max. You're right. Sorry - still kinda amped I guess. You had your time-out earlier. Then your mini-Lazarus projects. I uh, I didn't really get a chance yet. Boat run wasn't as cathartic as I'd hoped. But…I guess all of this has helped put the universe back in perspective a little. You know? Like you said. Even with all the mystery alien bullshit out there somewhere, there are still people who need help. Here. Now. Have to keep going on all fronts. But…yeah. Meh. Could stand to zone out for a few._

 _Well, I'm up here all alone on our roof with the snuggliest, most fuzziest blanket to ever exist in the history of all of ever. Two steaming hot cocoas, sun's about to come up… This is as good a zone as any. Now get up here and cuddle with your adorable sidekick and loving wife. You'll feel better. Promise._

 _Waiting for the elevator now. Wait… I have a cute sidekick too? And you guys are together? This sounds…fun._

 _You wish… Wait… do you wish?_

 _Cute. Almost to the roof. And Max-cuddle-time sounds exactly amazing._

 _Okay. I'll see you in a sec. We should maybe let Sophie get back to her vacay…_

 _Oops. Shit. Sorry, Soph. Sometimes I forget we're in your head. You must be ready to blow your fucking brains out by now, stuck listening to us babble…_

 _I heard my name? Sorry - I've been reading. But there's a duck here who would very much like my attention I think, and probably a bit of leftover apple too. What did you need?_

 _We're good, Sophie - cuttin' ya loose. Say hi to the duck. Wait, can you actually talk to ducks? Never-mind. But thanks again for jumping into the mosh this morning. Couldn't have done it without you._

 _Well, you could have, but I'm always glad to help. It was a good outcome. Call again if you need me. :D_

They disconnected from the link as Chloe's elevator arrived with a soft 'ding'. A few clouds showed hints of pink and peach. The lights of the Vegas skyline faded with the competition from above. Calm.

Max made room next to her, pulled the blanket gently back.

Footsteps, the clomp and bounce of boots falling to the tile behind her. A zipper, and the sound of…wet clothes slapping to the ground?

Chloe, naked, climbed under the blanket, body-hugged Max like a squid.

Max twitched violently. "CHLOE! Oh my god! You're so freakin' wet and COLD! Cold like a big wet dog! Gah! Get off me! Turn on your heater!"

"Heh heh. _Cuddle with meeeeee! Love meeeee!_ " Chloe wrapped tighter, shaking her head to scatter droplets.

Max laughed, struggling to get free. "You suck! You just ruin everything!"

"Oh my god, that's _so_ not true. I am a precious ray of sunshine, and you adore me and you know it."

"I know. I do. With all my heart."

"See? I'm already warmer. Better?"

Max ceased her attempts at freedom. "Yes. You're such a goddamn jerkface sometimes though. I was _so_ relaxed."

Chloe reached out from under the blanket. Took a sip of cocoa. "Thanks for the hot chocolate, Max."

"Welcome… Next time it'll be cold cocoa if you're not careful. Brat. Now quiet. Watch the sunrise with me."

"You know, I've heard there are actual people out there who try to make hot chocolate with water?"

"No way. Savages. …now shush."

Clouds showed definite signs of color. The skies above the mountains took on an early bright blue.

"Yes ma'am. This is me. …quietly watching the sunrise."

"…Chloe."

"…did I mention I'm naked?"

"Chloe."

"Alright, alright. Giant ball of hydrogen diffracting through nitrogen gets priority. I see how it is."

"…"

Rays of peach scattered out from a common spot just below the horizon.

Max kissed Chloe on her cheek. Snuggled.

Chloe snuggled back, arm and leg over Max.

After a minute of quiet, Chloe whispered loudly, "You're pretty."

"CHLOE!"

"Well. You are."

Max rolled her eyes, sighed.

The first of the new sun cracked over the distant peaks, casting the world in reds.

"…and you smell nice."

Max snorted. "One more peep, love of my life, and imma bubble you and drop you right in the pool."

Chloe snuggled down. "…fiiine." Leaned up, kissed under her jaw, rested her head on Max's shoulder.

The lower edge of the sun broke free of the mountaintop.

They held each other through the symphony of color, the first golden hour of the day.

Calm, sharing the rise and fall of each breath...

After, as the sun climbed higher, Max whispered, "Wanna go sleep in now?"

Chloe nodded. "Yeah. In a minute. This is nice too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Max sniffed at Chloe's hair. "And I do adore you, love."

"I know. _And to me, you've become unique in all the worlds…_ "

Max folded them to bed downstairs. They flopped into the lush pillows. "You remember it. Heh. Well…you tamed me too you know." She wrapped herself around Chloe like a happy sleepy starfish.

"That makes us responsible for each other."

"yeah…forever…"

They faded into sleep.

Half-awakened as someone fuzzy leapt onto them on his way to somewhere else. Circled back.

Fell back to sleep as little paws tread lightly, curling to a rest between them.

Ball of fluff, purring softly.


	14. Anaphora

**Jacob** glanced at his watch. _Two in the morning._ The drive into the city from the private airstrip had been quiet and uneventful.

Their elevator stopped at the highest floor with a self-congratulatory ' _ding',_ out of keeping with the hour. Doors opened silently to a wide, tastefully expensive foyer. Plush seating, local flowers in simple tabletop vases. His assistant, leading their entourage, gave a quick coded knock at the tall double-doors opposite.

A muffled voice beyond.

"It's Paige," she responded.

After a pause, the doors opened. Jacob's advance man welcomed them, led everyone inside the lavish penthouse suite. The ceiling was twenty feet above. The front wall entirely glass, looking out over the lights of the downtown area and across to the harbor. A small security detail had already swept and secured the upper half of the building.

"Mr. Wallace. You'll find your rooms are ready, should you wish to rest or refresh from your travels. Everything else is set, Paige."

"Thank you, Aiden. If you wouldn't mind pointing the way?" asked Jacob. "Paige, please don't let me sleep for more than two hours? I'd like time to get clean, catch up over breakfast."

"Of course, Jacob. Go, get some rest. We'll see to everything."

Aiden led him along the front wall, down a hallway and past a series of open spaces and closed rooms. Behind him, Paige and the others dissembled to their work.

Arriving at the last door, Aiden said, "Here you are, sir. Everything as you like. I realize your stay is short, but please try to enjoy. I'll be halfway to our next by the time you wake, so you'll forgive me if I say my goodbyes now."

"Always too brief, old friend."

"Always too true. And good luck. Tomorrow. It's a bold and elegant solution."

"Only if I can make it work in the necessary directions. Good night, Aiden. Thanks again for all your trouble, and safe travels." Jacob closed the door behind him. Tomorrow's selections from his wardrobe waited, already pressed. His toiletries were arranged neatly on the vanity.

He dimmed the lights at the wall switch, prepared for rest.

* * *

 **Max** woke from a deep sleep to find she couldn't breathe. The air was too warm, and there was something across her nose and mouth… Tight pinpricks pressured her cheek and throat. She forced her eyes open, but her view was blocked by a soft…something. "Mrerrrrrph!"

Emo casually rolled off her face sideways, stretched out. The tip of his tongue curled up as his eyes closed. He yawned with all the fierce and tiny majesty he could muster.

Max fought her own yawn, crinkled her nose. "Kitten breath…"

He rolled again, closer to the sun-patch. White tips of his canines peeking out below his lips.

 _What did she used to call you?_ "Morning, vampire kitty." Rubbed his chin.

His eyes were mere slits; a mark of uncertainty in the endless struggle between wakefulness and sleep. He settled for somewhere between, content for a moment in his upside-down state. Fickle, discontent, he reached, flipped into a half-loaf.

Max scratched down his back, stopping ahead of his tail.

He arched, lost balance, rolled off the side of her.

She giggled as he recovered in the poofiness of the comforter, confused, he licked his paw, stopped. Looking to her, he gave a casual 'mew'.

"Goof…" She felt around the other side of the bed with her free arm. _No Chloe._ "Hmm. What time is it?"

The building answered, "11:47 AM."

 _4 hours… could stay here for a while longer, reloop, but…_ "Hrrrrrrgh." Max stretched, slid sideways out of bed, got up.

Emo crawled slowly, paw over paw, into the warmth left behind.

 _I'll make it later…sleep tight, bunnyhead._ Max rubbed her eyes as she made her way to her toothbrush. Asked aloud, "Where's Chloe?"

The same voice replied, "Commander Price is _not_ on board the Enterprise."

Max chuckled as she gave the tube a squeeze. _Least Chloe's giving it a sense of humor…_

Morning mouth successfully banished, she showered and dressed. Jeans, light blue high-top Vans, faux-vintage Robotron 2084 t-shirt under a powder-blue hoodie. She tucked the wire necklace with its single bullet into her shirt. An old gift from Chloe, who was down to two on her own, still sleeping in a drawer. Max wore hers every so often.

She left Emo some kibble in the kitchen before folding downstairs to the cafeteria to get her own. She arrived near the elevators, made her way to the outer edge of the donut, where it met the open entrance of the wing. John and Jeremy held court in their usual lunch spot. Max vanished, appeared. Crashed their table, clearly interrupting their ongoing conversation.

"…yeah, well…that's just how I…we'll come back to this," trailed Jeremy, acknowledging Max with a smile.

"Morning." John scooted himself and his plate to make room. "Get any sleep?"

"Hey. Afternoon now, I guess." She noticed John's scruff. Asked absently, "Is that scruff?" Picked up a tablet with the various menus. Max wasn't sure what she was hungry for, but she was definitely hungry for a whole lotta something.

John opened and closed his mouth without saying anything.

Jeremy folded his crossword aside, took a sip of his iced tea. "We missed the party this morning."

Max shrugged. "Invites were a little ad hoc, but it worked out okay. You're up to speed? And…what are you eating, John? That smells really good."

John sat up very straight, replied slowly, proudly, "Well, Max, in the land of _my_ people, we call it a 'burrito'."

Max rolled her eyes. "We're _in_ the land of your people. And everyone everywhere calls it a burrito. Meant what's in it?"

He deflated, poked at it. "Grilled steak, French fries, black beans, cheese, guac, bacon, some veggies?"

"Yeah. Fries and bacon - those are the missing ingredients. That." Max tapped in her order. "How is everyone? Downstairs, I mean? I assume you guys are okay."

Jeremy paused his salad-fork mid-flight. "Stopped down an hour ago. Physically…our new guests are improving. Getting restless, which I'm told is good. Counsellors were working the crowd, along with a couple of LVPD's finest, taking statements to package up for their home teams, what-have-you. Another day, plus whatever follow-up?"

"That's good to hear… Hey, I don't know if you know at all, but there were these two…"

Jeremy smiled. John interrupted her with a laugh, "Yeah, trust me, we've heard about your…upgrade to our Employee Retention Plan, I guess?" He shrugged. "Holos are making the rounds - all anybody's talked about this morning. Well, that and all the other stuff I guess…"

Max shrugged. "Eh. What can you do? But for real, you know I didn't really bring them back from the dead or anything, right? Just sorta bought them forward, hopping over the being dead part? Please tell me you get that, John?"

John nodded. "Sorry, okay, you know I'm dying to ask the obvious, but…uh, the kids, you know, they're good to go. Hundred and ten percent."

Max raised her eyebrows. "Okay…wow. That's pretty far from where I left 'em. Nanobot safari, or…?"

"More of a small world story. Alena and her dad spent the night last night. You…see where this is going. Media on their front lawn…they bunked up. She must have heard there were some other kids in the building this morning, went to make friends. She was fast, didn't say a thing, but one of the nurses caught it. One minute she's doing a computer puzzle or whatever with the others, next she goes over to say hi to the two you went all Lord and Savior on… Visited with 'em for a sec. By the time she rejoined the first group, whatever they had was over. No signs. They're just back to being normal little kids again."

Max mouthed a silent 'thank you' to the waitress for her fresh cup of coffee. Back to John, "Okay, that kinda makes my day. She's really good, isn't she?"

"She's a fucking ninja medic, is what she is. Stealth healer. Gonna see if she'll fit in a pack - start taking her out on missions with us…" John took another bite of his burrito. "Have a soft spot for the kid after what she did for Trace on New Year's…"

Max sipped. "Yeah, Sophie said she's a helper. Can't not…"

Jeremy glanced up at Max. "Not like she has any positive role models or anything…" Returned his attention to his lunch.

Max ignored him. "That was really kind of her though. Makes for a way better morning. Afternoon. You know… Which reminds, John - how is Trace doing? It's been a few weeks - she doing okay with life over the wall?"

"Huh? Oh…no she's great. Your…initiations don't leave a lot of ambiguity to fight against. She rolled with it. Adapted, like we all did. Answered questions between us, so thank you for taking that chance. Anyway, uh, she's off doing Tracey things. Mostly. Busy with some new artifacts touring around. Her parents are threatening to fly out for a visit. That's something to look back on. And what's the deal with Karaoke, by the way? I'm getting…uncomfortable pressure. Is that still a thing? Ty said something in passing early this morning, but it wasn't clear…"

"Think we just need to set a date."

"Cool. Let us know when. Please? Maybe we could sync it up with her parents' visit, so we're safely out of the country? _Please?_ "

"Heh. That was two pleases. Chicken? You should meet her parents, John. Oh, and I think you guys got promoted to judges or something too? Talk to Hector, it's his idea, and I'm hazy on the deets. You guys say when."

The waitress dropped off Max's order.

"Copy that," John shrugged, taking a bite.

Returning her attention to Jeremy, Max asked, "Any G2 on the Asshole-McBoatFace side of things? If you've heard, I mean?"

"Only from rolling log updates. Progress. Teardown team found some paperwork on board, along with a drive. Obvious theory, it was set aside as some sort of protection against whatever. Sporadic journal entries, a few names, accounts. Gave pointers on both sides of the ocean. Nothing complete, but the team's working the data decryption now. Should be quick."

"Fast break is fast." Max dove into her burrito.

"They were in a safe in the captain's cabin. Locked, but not hidden. I really don't think they were expecting company. Or the makeshift brig. Regardless, ship's turned around, driving back to their home port at full speed. Team's keeping a few of ours on board until they hand off to the locals. Along with a single drone escort. Week at most. Cop who tossed us the lead is back in the loop. Going by the brief, sounds like it's all under control."

"Noice." Max gave a short nod, took another sip of coffee. "I'll make the rounds, check in with everybody later. Quick change of subject - anybody seen Chloe? I'm sure I'm a terribly disappointing stalker today."

John smiled, shook his head.

Jeremy's fork halted, stalling delivery of another leafy payload. "We had a meeting this morning to go over some minor gaps in the P&L. After, I think she was headed out to Groom? Maybe start with Parker?"

"Makes sense. I'll catch up with her…"

* * *

 **Max** folded into their new old hangar - official designation, H22. _Can't imagine how they name these._ Hundred-twenty feet on each side, forty high. The air inside held vague hints of fresh paint and old ozone.

Radio equation was still on the inner wall, quiet in the darkness behind new panels. In a few short weeks, the teams converted the interior from empty-retro-sad to something nearing modern…if a little cold. Glossy white floor surface, bright new interior walls, painted ceiling. Climate control. The air itself provided the light, glowing as it did. Parker's high frequency homage to Nikola Tesla. The exterior also received a fresh coat of the base-standard beige, with a few 'active stealth' ingredients for good measure - designed to selectively block or pass whole ranges of energy. Gave them privacy, while allowing comms and remote control.

Max stepped over one of the fresh green lines subdividing the floor into work sections, skirted around organized piles of assorted construction materials. Bones of the narrow internal office and lab complex going up along one interior wall. _Another month there._

Chloe's Aventador, dusty, was parked at an angle just inside the hangar doors. Tire marks suggested a sideways slide on the way in. Knowing Chloe, Max assumed it was probably through a very small gap.

She rounded the corner of a temporary rack. Caught him napping. "Hey, Parker." A few of his team chuckled in the background. One overhand-lobbed a French fry at his head.

He pushed up from his workbench, gave a yawn. "Hiya Max. sorry…burrito coma." The fry plummeted to the floor.

She nodded. "Had one of those too. Burrito part, not the coma. Yet. You know what I mean…"

"Checking in? Or passing through?"

"Little of both. How are you guys doing?" Max picked up a coil, turned the cold metal in her hands.

Parker twitched as she took hold of the part, but quickly covered. Glancing at the construction area, he said, "Soldiering on in spite of the noise. Give us a week, and we'll be in test flights."

"Cool…that's quick." She set the coil back where she found it. Didn't want to throw off whatever organizing system they had going on.

He shrugged. "Low altitude, baby steps… Chloe's been kind enough to drop hints in the comments of the nightly software builds. Nudging us normals along, I suppose. Helpful though - cut a few months of trial and error."

"…speaking of…" Max gave the room a final scan for Chloe.

"Trial and Error? She was here earlier. Wait, what time is it? Okay, yeah - she's…" He glanced around his benches, gave a weary sigh. "…and it appears she's taken the mule again."

Max, amused by the involuntary visual, "'Scuse me?"

"Performance prototype - test mule. Bout yea big?" He held his arms about two feet apart.

Max, shook her head, smiling, "Had such a different picture in my head. Fuzzy ears, soulful eyes…li'l waggy tail…"

He chuckled, "Thanks for that. But, no, think mounting deck for the repulsion drivers. She's 'liberated' it again. Might check the rec facilities? Where we found her last time. Or Sam's? I'm still getting used to the idea that we have access privileges to a bar…inside Area 51… Odder yet, they make serviceable food. Not as though I can leave a good Yelp behind or anything…"

Max agreed. "Right? It _is_ pretty cool to be here though. Thanks for the pointer on Chloe. We'll be back."

He called after her, "Hey, if she's damaged it, might be worth an ounce of prevention? Limited set."

"I'll check." Max vanished, reappearing at the side door. Stepped out into the midday light.

Enjoying the sunshine, she retraced their first steps here. Out of uniform this time. Out in the open. No one paying her any mind at all.

She made her way across the base to the cluster of chunky beige buildings near the baseball field. _Nice little walk._ Pushed through the front entrance to Sam's. Dim inside, but not dark. Windowless. An old Pac Man machine bleeped in one corner. _Like the one inside the alien bar in Rachel… Wonder if they know each other? Waka waka._ Bar was well lit. Silhouettes of guys at the counter eating burgers. Two off-duty airmen played pool to the side. She could tell by their haircuts.

First time they hit Sam's, a few people recognized Chloe. But they treated her in that odd enthusiast-peer sort of way. Dude-nods, smiles, but kept a respectful distance. Even if they wanted to, they prolly couldn't geek-out about what they were working on here. Knew better than to ask Chloe anything. They all shared a sort of eerie knowing silence instead. _It's super cute how much Chloe loves every single part of this though…_

Max moved on. _No obvious Chloe-sign._ She pushed through the side door with a creak and a 'ding'.

Interior hallway. More beige, decorated with a few framed posters of military aircraft developed or tested here. Floor was that universal short-looped dark-grey of the government-industrial-carpet-complex. _Prolly last a thousand years._ She knew it could survive part of that. Turned a short corner, slid though the double-doors to the rec center. A few people moved about, while a sign in the lobby apologized for the inconvenience. She heard the music, took a left through the women's 'locker room' - which was really just a showerless bathroom with a few lockers - and out to the indoor pool area.

Smaller than theirs. Water drained. Maintenance, probably.

A few enlisted types lounged on the bleachers, relaxing with friends who were out of uniform. Even here, a little clique - none of them older than Max or Chloe appeared to be.

Beneath the thrashing guitars banging out through the speakers, Max felt a familiar hum. Sharp irregular crackles echoed off the pool walls.

Chloe popped up over the lip nearest Max like a rocket-fueled prairie dog. One hand above the edge of the pool, the other on…Parker's mule… Did a short spin before vanishing back into the deep end, out of view. Below her 'board', two irregular flattened hemispheres distorted the air and gave off the occasional blue electrical snap. She popped up on the other side of the pool, paused, let gravity take her back down again.

 _Because, of course._

Max went to the edge, dropped down to her hands and knees and leaned out. Old trick. Chloe saw her, rode up that side of the pool. Just enough hang-time for a quick mid-air kiss before she dropped back into the depths. _Nailed it._

Max smiled, sat back, enjoying Chloe enjoying her makeshift hover-board. She found it mildly interesting that the bleacher crew gave Chloe only partial attention. Clearly not the weirdest thing they'd seen around here.

* * *

 **Chloe** traced a fast wide 'S' across the bottom of the pool, rode up the side wall, gave an extra push on the way down to build speed. Up and over. Stepped off to ground level next to Max, picking the board out of the air as it sailed up behind her with an angry crackle.

Max got to her feet. "Something something ollie?"

Chloe smiled, rolled her eyes, killed the power. "Poser." She bumped Max. Tucked the board under her arm, hand into her pocket.

Max took Chloe's other arm in hers, walked alongside. "It's not posing, just trying to fit in. But you know that I know that you know better anyway, so that makes it even more totally not posing. Also, I think Parker might be looking for his board."

"Oh, it's _his_ board now?" Chloe shrugged. "He'll get over it. I'm…testing. If he could write his own control code and not suck about it…" She smirked.

"Chloe! Don't be mean. Grumpypants."

Chloe winked at her. "Kidding, dude. They've got mad skills - I totally give him shit anyway. It's funnier cause it's like he doesn't know what to do with it, you know…goes all deer in headlights… heh. Hilarious. So what's up? How are _you_ feeling? How'd you sleep? Whatcha doing out here?" Chloe pushed through the outer door, strolled outside into the sun.

Max let go of her arm, took her hand. "So inquisitive. In order? Um. You know, just stuff. I'm feeling pretty happy. Slept okay, but our dark minion tried to suffocate me. Again. And I'm here cause I missed you and junk."

"Aww."

"And I was thinking about taking Sophie's advice. Or, I guess, general purpose pestering. Whatever. Maybe head out into the real world for a while this afternoon. Figured I might as well take a camera, get some new stills and loops for around the office, you know, if you were looking to tag along for a mini-adventure?"

Chloe remembered last time. "You mean if I was looking to follow you around lugging your camera bag for you?"

"Hey!" Max pulled at Chloe's hand.

"Kidding. Thanks - but I should stay focused. Get some work done today. You know? Rain check?"

Max swung their arms a little higher between them. "Course. Always."

"Don't get me wrong - I'd love to go - but I'm also happy as shit you're taking some creative you-time. Where are you off to?"

Max shrugged. "Hmm… Dunno. Thought I'd wander. See where the afternoon takes us…me now I guess. Have this one idea, it's a series on crowded sidewalks and streets around the world. Like from inside the crowds, same film and camera settings and time of day for each place. Always shooting in the direction I'm walking…playing with the color and light. The visual atmospheres are so different from city to city - not just the cultures and colors and fashions, but the feel of the sunlight. Yet, everyone's coming from somewhere, thinking 'bout stuff, going somewhere else in this communal flood of foot traffic… I've seen it before, but I'd love to try to capture it. Might come out kinda cool? Mix of contrasts and similarities…"

"You've always had your own eye, Max. I'm sure it'll be brilliant. Oop! Hold up." Chloe pulled back, pausing them at the edge of a wide taxi-way between hangars as an F-16 rolled by.

Max raised her hand to the pilot inside the bubble canopy. She returned Max's greeting with a jaunty salute.

Turned back to Chloe. "Flatterer."

"Bullshit. You know it's true, dude." With the jet and its engine-wash safely down the road, Chloe started across.

Max skipped to catch up. "My other idea goes back to something you said over the holidays… Different direction, but I could also take the Hasselblad out for a spin. Start with Mercury, work my way out from there. One random photo from the surface, or just above the atmosphere, of each planet and each moon. Medium-format slideshow homage to our little corner of the universe…"

Chloe shrugged. "Well, I mean, why not both? You could make the time."

"…cute."

"Heh."

"Well, I'll…"

Chloe felt Max shift. Like she caught up to herself mid-stride. _A jump?_ "Max?"

She stopped, her voice a little more serious. "Hey, Chlo. Sorry. Quick jump back. Gimmie a sec? If you wanna go on ahead, I can drop me off in the Hangar before I bail?"

"What's up? What happened?"

"Terror attack. Barcelona, 'bout eleven hours from now. A few asshats with backpack bombs hit the metro. Gets pretty ugly."

"Shit - that sucks. You need any help kicking ass and taking names, or?"

"Oh, no… I only came back to have our guys call it in. The video was good, so it took the police there a day to get their IDs. They said on the news right before I left… I won't be a sec."

"Okay… I'll wait right here."

Max nodded, gave her a quick peck on the cheek, turned away and wasn't there anymore.

Chloe stepped into the cooler shade of a nearby hangar, leaned back, slid down the wall, board flipped upside down on her lap. Day was warm, but not hot. She scanned the horizon with her own eyes. Skies met dusty lakebed in a contrast of dark blue against bright tan. Mountains darker in the distance. Pungent unburned hydrocarbons drifted by in invisible clouds. She analyzed in the background, formulated a clean synthetic JP mixture, dropped Materials a quick note.

Shifted point of view to somewhere above. Watched the F-16 pause at the end of the runway. Its engines kicked to life, hurtling the small jet forward. Not even a quarter of the way along, its nose lifted. The pilot angled steeply to gain altitude. Seconds later, ten-thousand feet above the deck, she rolled the plane in a lazy half-corkscrew, headed north. Chloe pulled her attention back. _Say hi to Tonopah…again._ Wandered around her real-time view of the base. Zoomed in on the important things. _Corndogs in the chow hall today…_ Surprisingly good last time she tried them. She absently scrubbed herself and Max out of the various digital video recordings at base security. More out of habit than necessity now. Before she had the chance to go hangar-diving, not-very-FutureMax returned.

Chloe held out her hand. Max took it, leaned in, then stepped back, pulling Chloe to her feet. Chloe caught the edge of the board with her other hand before it hit the ground.

"Everything okay?"

Max nodded. "Yep. Scribbled off some notes for our peeps to pass along. They're already on with Spanish anti-terror in Madrid. In their hands now. Hopefully Barcelona PD gets the bomb maker too this time. He was already long gone…"

"Alright. Cool. Uh. Well, if that's it, say hi to me, I guess?"

"You're adorkable. Oh, but that reminds me - um, when NowMe comes back, before she bounces, tell her to be back home by 4pm? Less complicated. There's a fun call we should take together first pass, save some back and forth. And might have Sophie and the exec team on standby. You'll understand."

Chloe shook her head. "That's all I get? Man, you're a bottomless well of questions, as always."

Max kissed her, whispered, "What? I'm wearing pants."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Womp womp."

Max continued, "And what fun would it be if I told you everything? You've got this. And I do adore you, not-very-far-in-the-PastChloe."

Chloe gave her a hug. "Love you too, not-too-FutureMax. Now get the hell out of here before the love of my life comes back and catches us together?"

Max laughed. "See you in a couple of days. Poof." With that, Max lurched forward, caught herself. Looked around. "…okay. So…what did I miss?"

"Usual. Nothing now. Metro bombings in España later. Before. You dropped off some info for the cops. Should be all good."

Max shrugged. "Oh. Okay. Cool. Best job is when no one knows you've done anything at all… Including me, I guess?"

"Spoken like a true intergalactic rainbow space-goddess…" Chloe gave her a side-glance.

"'Til the memory catches up, anyway… Wait a minute…that look. Oh my god! You're totally having another affair with FutureMe, aren't you?!"

Chloe bit her lip, laughed, "Busted. But dude - you would too if you could. She's pretty cute!"

Max squinted. "Uh-huh. You're lucky I don't hook up with PastChloe for revenge… Whatevs. … _guess_ I still love you anyway…" Max took a breath. Considered. "But now I have to figure out which direction I want to go today… Pictures, I mean. Help me decide."

Chloe pinched the board under her arm. Took Max's hand in hers and started back to their hangar. "You said you should be back by 4pm, so just putting that out there, if it changes anything…"

Max paused. "Huh. K. Did I give a reason?"

"Nope. Well, something about a call? Swear, it's prolly nothing and you're just trolling me again…"

Max, playful bounce in her step, smiling sweetly, "That doesn't sound like the me I know at all…"

Chloe guided them across another wide taxiway. "Right…and to me, that sounds, how do you say in English, 'suspiciously untrue'?"

"We'll figure it out. Hope whatever it is doesn't take too long though. I was gonna do supply runs tonight, check in with Margaret, drop off some tea… Not that there's any relation between how long it's been here and how much time passes there at the target… But you know what I mean. Hey - and I just realized that I totally suck. I didn't ask how you were feeling? When did you get up?"

"Pfft. I'm good. Left you 9-ish, I guess? Morning meeting with Jeremy. That dude is such a professional worrywart. He was all bent cause, even with the hundred mil from the Russians clearing, we're gonna be a little low on operating funds. It's like, dude - it's just cash - and it's us - it'll get handled, you know? There's literally nothing but time…"

Max lifted their hands up over one of the concrete bollards at the corner of their hangar, passing it between them as they walked. "We pay him a lot of money to be a professional worrywart. How low?"

Chloe let go of Max, opened the people-door of the hangar for her. Shrugged. "It's really no big deal. Need to infuse a billion or so to carry us through the end of Q1."

Max went through first, held it open for Chloe to follow. "Okay. I mean, is the burn really that high?"

"Yeah, but, you know…it's not totally unexpected right now. Licensing, we'll be autopilot in a year or two. It's cool. I mean, we could move some other outside cash or holdings around, but we've got some leftover lead from Skywatch; just as easy to make some gold or whatever over the next couple of days. It'll be more than the usual trickle through our 'paper mines', but shouldn't be enough to tweak markets or anything if we diffuse it." Chloe flipped the board, set the mule back on Parker's bench.

"Okay. I mean, let me know if it's an issue. Happy to help scout some platinum-rich asteroids or whatever if you show me how. We still need to make the mining thing credible with a real space program that others can use to follow us up. Eventually anyway. Baby steps, orbital ring network, blah blah. Talk later… Hey, again, Parker."

He took the mule from Chloe. Turned it over, examining new scuffs. "Hey Max. Price. What did you do to our…."

"It's fine, dude. Chill. I was working out some new ideas for simulating effects of linear friction under lateral changes in load inertia. I'll…drop you the notes later?"

He held up his hands in abrupt surrender. "You're a peach." He turned, quickly rolled his eyes at Max. Behind him, Chloe winked.

Max moved aside as he passed, stepped to Chloe. Gave her a casual hug and a kiss. "Alright love, I'm gonna head back to grab gear, then out. Feels like a people kinda day, so think I'm sticking Earth-side. Phones should work if anything comes up?"

"Ciao bella."

"You're a ciao bella."

"I'll ciao bella you!" Chloe said, shaking her fist.

"I…I still don't know what that means…" Max smiled, turned, waved over her shoulder. Empty air.

* * *

 **Max** was an island of stillness parting the fluid rush of the sidewalk. Her whole world narrowed through the viewfinder. Fading skies and city lights played the crowd from left to right - the sharp red of tail lights, the cool blues of the fading sky, and the diffuse glowing bands of warm yellows from shop windows along the street… Waiting for that perfect alignment of people in motion, lights, and empty space. Mexico City.

An hour before, she captured the busy night life in Tangiers. Least 'til she got pulled indoors, carried along by the moving sidewalk crowd. Accidentally crashed a late-night reception. Tea was strong, and she had a fun, if strange, conversation with a semi-pro wedding crasher. An hour before that, she framed the upturned faces of the mid-morning audience at the base of the Sky Tower in Auckland, as thrill seekers in orange jump-suits plummeted toward them on safety lines. The tower was nearly as tall as the Stratosphere in Vegas. She smiled at her own anxious memory of Chloe's first excited cowabunga back home.

Max pulled back to the low end of her zoom, aperture wide open, focal plane at the middle-distance, blurring the foreground and background. The scent of uber-tasty food from the taqueria across the street was almost overwhelming. _Focus. No-pun._

Her original creative vision was to capture the feel of each city, the atmospheres, with their denizens more or less represented in aggregate. Not quite scenery. But once on the ground, she became intrigued by the physical language of small interactions between people along the walkways. Universalities. An arm over a shoulder. A quick hand tap between friends to point something out. Casual, meaningless. Meaningful. Two teens walking close, early; still too shy to look at each other, until they did. Unconscious eye-smiles and waves as family members discovered each other across a cafe. One couple stared straight ahead, silence after a fight maybe; one angry, one downcast. Movements, glances, that same language wherever she went. Subtle touches that often flashed by in less than a second. Hard to catch if she wasn't looking for them. Impossible to plan shots around.

 _Well, not entirely true…_

The crowd thinned momentarily on the left, bathed in the warm light of a shop window, but she was mid-right with pedestrians between. Wasn't quite it. She paused, rewound the couple back a few feet, moved herself to the left. _Better._ They weren't looking at the camera. Their child glanced up at their faces with apparent joy as they shared a quick look between them. Max bracketed a few shots as she rolled time forward again, manually zooming as the shutter clicked away, adding a slight motion blur to the people closest.

She angled the lens down, flipped through the twenty or so new images on the display back. A few she liked. Human moments. Not hers. But someone's. _Decent bokeh on the stop-lights too…_

Her phone vibrated.

Network time caught up. Nearly 6:30pm, local. A handful of missed calls and texts. All Chloe.

 _Shit._

 _S'posed to be back by four, our time… oops._

Her phone buzzed again as new messages caught up.

 _Your horses. Hold them! Geez._

She powered off, attached the lens cap and stowed the camera in her messenger bag.

She folded to the roof of a fifty-story bank headquarters building, overlooking a large park. Taking herself out of sight and out of the way. Once there, she took a moment to appreciate the spectacular view, decided she wasn't quite ready to leave. She'd already missed the time, so it was a rewind either way.

Max shrugged, hopped up, took a seat on the edge of the safety wall, legs over the side.

Needed to clear a few lingering cobwebs before heading home. _Top of the lighthouse…_

From high up, the city reminded her of the massive sprawl of urban Southern California. Seemed to stretch on forever, hugging the skin of the world like a living thing. Twenty-million; double the entire human population at the darkest point last loop. But there they all were, overflowing this single vast city, brimming with so much noise and light and spirit. Going about their mundane, awesome, day to day lives…

She pulled a green tea out of her bag, twisted, sipped.

Her afternoon out was a good re-grounding. Reminded her of a few things she already knew.

Around the world, out in public, anonymous - face to face with so many normal people, doing their normal stuff - it was a sort of bookend to the weird of the past few weeks, or more. There were so many of them. People. So different from place to place, but so similar in really fundamental ways.

At street level, any notion of 'the crowd' as a single entity broke apart under examination. Appearances, cultural and social mores aside, they were never any one thing. Some were kind, smiled, while others brushed by. Some strolled, while others raced, late. Some noticed the others and the world around them, while many walked bent-necked, studying their glowing rectangles - windows to people who weren't there with them. Differing by their nature, their circumstances, their days. All were just normal folk, being normal, traveling through transitional spaces on the way to something or someone else. They mostly got along with each other, and while each probably had their own worries, most were pretty okay most of the time.

Life in the early 21st. These minor snapshots of global normalcy contrasted with their own day-to-day back home - with their intense critical focus on the other patterns. It was so easy to get lost in the bad guys, the problems, the effects of the worst of people's behaviors, the terrifying unknowns out there in the darkness, the scope and breadth of documented horrors leading to a future they were trying so hard to prevent down here in the world. Undoing the acute breakage around them as it occurred, wherever they could…

 _Only have to look around to see the best of them too, though…_

 _That's a necessary reminder - I can still fall into the same trap I complained to that Elliot dude about. It's possible to put so much energy and attention into the negative outliers, that it amplifies them out of proportion… While part of our job is to help keep the outliers from becoming the norm, I have to keep a sense of what's really real out here - for that balance. Like everyone else, we need an accurate model of reality in our heads to make thoughtful decisions…_

Max looked up as a helicopter passed overhead, lights blinking, rotors thumping at the air.

She and Chloe each carried their share of burdens, with the majority shared between them. Core team. It was natural, comfortable, convenient even to turn inward to each other for balance and perspective at the end of each day. They were the constants between universes and timelines. And the only ones who _really_ knew or understood how bad it could be, after all.

Sophie was maybe the one outside exception, by proxy.

Everyone close to them felt a similar urgency about the problems, of course.

But there was echo danger in that too.

Inside that protective bubble they made for themselves…

 _Insulation goes both ways._

 _Take great care that it doesn't become isolation._

… _that you aren't amplifying each other without some outside grounding…_

… _or amplifying yourself. (Yeah…we'll come back to that one.)_

 _It's already possible that we've made it too easy to forget the simple reality of what, or who, we're trying to preserve…advance…out here._

 _Helping rebuild civilization from scratch with a small, willing population was such a different journey. In some ways, I don't feel like that effort prepared us at all for this one. It's less obvious how best to redirect these vibrant billions, with all their competing structures and influences and inertia, in the near-term. Without them being aware of it, or understanding why… We're operating mostly on the long-term 'architect it and they will come' model, but like them, the answer isn't truly any one thing._

 _Maybe that's why Sophie's always after me, in our little side-talks…pushing me to go outside…take some time and space for direct contact, pondering…_

She bounced her heels off the sides of the building, sipped quietly. She saw people down there, but as she looked outward to more distant streets, there was a point at which they became too small, too far away to resolve. Blended into the abstraction of the urban landscape.

 _Everyone we've ever saved is a whole person, but I wonder, have we become too busy? Too…single-minded to pay them much attention beyond that? We've spent so much time with each other, to the exclusion of nearly everyone outside our own walls. Has that been a necessity to get through this intensive startup period, to set up the infrastructure for long-term change? Or is it because it's easier for us? …easier for me?_

… _introvert struggles._

 _Shit's real. Even after all this time… I can behave differently, I can play the roles well, and…I may be able to reshape entire worlds - but I'm still who I am on the inside. It's always been something that's true about me, and it's not changing now… It's not bad at all - I'd happily embrace my outer introvert in any semblance of a normal life - but I have to keep reminding myself to fight against my hermit tendencies if I want to better connect with real people out there._

 _Which…I should want. It's beneficial in so many directions for what we're trying to do…necessary for keeping an accurate perspective, to understand where they are, know what to do, how to help… Without knowing it, they have the most important part to play in our collective futures… How can we hope to effectively understand or guide them if we grow to perceive them as an abstract sort of 'other'? Invisible ideas…down some distant street?_

 _We didn't take the time to know many of them this early in the last loop either. Seattle - did we ever even meet our neighbors? Learn anything about them? Participate in their lives in any way? Honestly can't remember… Billions of people in the world, and as terrible as it is, we didn't seem to notice them until they were mostly gone last time. Long as we had each other, a few friends here and there, that was all we could hang on to. 'Til it was too late. Natural myopia after T-zero Arcadia, maybe. But that's a long time gone. We didn't even know Juliet was alive here, and this AB went down less than three years ago._

She put the cap back on her tea, rested it on the ledge next to her.

 _I don't know…maybe we took the rules of the world for granted, assuming it would stay as it was forever. 'Til it was suddenly too late to do much besides hunker. Survive. Compromise. But even now, for all our talk of saving 'the world'…we're focused on that abstraction - the idea of 'billions of people'. 'All life'. We say it with real feeling. Mean it with everything we have. But…_

 _But it's not quite right. It's…we only ever knew them by their absence last time._

 _Fucking unfathomable that way. And something important gets lost in the attempted counting of them now._

 _Reality is, it's that one dude down there on that payphone. Right there. Him. Specifically._

 _And that woman over there climbing the stairwell with way too many bags of groceries._

 _And that man selling tissues on the bus earlier._

 _And the couple sitting in traffic over there, and the pilot of that plane…_

 _And the people we rescued, and the kids from last night…_

 _And that tree. And that barking dog…_

… _and all the generations that come after them…_

 _Individuals, living normal lives, connecting to each other. Brushing wings, changing each other._

 _They're the ones who shape all of it, as their present writes our future._

 _They're very real._

 _Obviously, and of course._

 _And nothing about them is abstract._

 _Everything in their lives matters to them, moment to moment…_

 _Soph - these seeds of yours…sometimes, they take a while to sink in. Collide with each other. Or maybe grow. …cause…they're…seeds. shut up, Max. She's right though. It's not just about how long they continue to be here. Although an environment where that's assured matters for a lot of very critical reasons. It's as much about their own personal experiences of reality, the quality of their lives while they're here, and…how they love and guide each other, and where they can go under their own power…especially the part about believing that they're capable of getting there under their own power. Having their own dreams for what that is. Key to what's next for all of us._

 _But it's not even us saving that one dude on the phone. Is it? Maybe, if that's what's needed…_

 _But it's also about them saving each other…_

 _And I…I don't know how to make them matter to one another._

 _That's not universal here…_

 _They don't know._

 _That's something we missed completely in the short term._

 _We architected for it in the long game, but there are a lot of them here, now._

 _So much inertia._

 _Are we moving too slowly? For them?_

 _We're helping out a lot already, I know, but…_

 _Can we do better?_

 _There's a logic knot in the middle of all of this._

 _Radically changing an entire timeline, with their participation, but without them knowing it._

… _without the predictable disruption of moving too fast._

 _But helping them more by helping them less._

 _But we need to help them some, cause there's something pushing hard the other way._

 _But the more we do to help, the less it's them doing it themselves._

 _And maybe the thing that would do the most, transparency, the truth, any inspiration sorta, is also doing the least._

 _But that would require the most from us in some ways…_

… _of me._

 _I'm hoping we can succeed without that._

 _We did last time, but they brought their own motivation…_

 _I don't even know if it would help._

 _Might just scare the shit out of everyone to know what…happened in another timeline…_

 _What might happen here if we stop trying._

 _Full circle. No real solution._

 _That ugly future is still out there though, trying to make itself real in some way. And like last night, or Spain tonight - there are times and places where there are no other options for them - no choice for us but to step in… No choice not to._

She retrieved her tea, took another sip. Flashing lights, sirens a few miles away. Caught a glimpse of ambulances. Reminder of last night.

She was still surprised, and disappointed in herself. At the intensity of her reaction in the moment on the docks. But…in truth, signs of it bubbled when she first donned the uniform, weeks ago on the way back to Area 51.

 _Burying things isn't dealing with them…_

 _Obviously unresolved…_

 _For all this leveling up, I really feel like I should be way past this basic shit by now._

 _Guess…it doesn't really work that way…_

She pulled one foot up on the ledge, wrapped her arms in a hug around that leg. Rested her chin on her knee, watching the lights.

With further distance and perspective, she reflected, attempted to close the loop on last night's retreat into the void. And all the loops, stretching backward.

 _It's related, and it's been percolating, but especially since this morning, after bringing them forward…at the heart of it all - is 'never again' even useful for me to hold onto as a prime directive anymore? Does that intense focus on a negative as my guiding light help? Or does it become a lens for events? A bias, contributing to a distorted view of reality? Does thinking in those terms keep the past, those buried memories and feelings, more alive for me than they might otherwise be? That mantra's been there in the background for so long… Got us through back then, but…_

 _That question, that worry…repeating patterns, revisiting old horrors… It's not really real anymore. Bad shit will still happen, but it won't stick. 'Never again' is a given. By existing, knowing what we do, being who we are - we'll help them ensure it. We control the final timeline. I do. Period._

 _Reading stories in a pillow fort - everyone lived - that's how it ended. How it always will in the final pass. Not perfect in the getting there, but shinier on the way to the rest of their lives. And our deal with the UN, it's a model - we're helping, guiding quietly to start, but it's still gonna be mostly normal everyday people around the world, working together to make it all go. Making it better. That's with just a little push…redirection of force…soft power. Even our folks, they're mostly just normal people - with access to information and tech the others don't have yet… But making amazing progress toward eliminating the spaces for these kinds of abuses. And so much more. One day, they won't need us for any of it._

 _Maybe it's time. To at least try to let go of some of the old regrets. Not just bury, or push down, but really see them for what they are, let them fade in the light. Give those negatives less power over me on a fundamental level…move gently past them if I can. Even hidden, they're still too big below the surface. Stick up._

 _I'm tired of this lurking. Think they're gone, and just, bam._

 _Truth is, everything's changed. I've changed. It's a different world now. Still a world with people-problems, and they're tragically important, but they ultimately have people-solutions…with a little care, and provided they're free from intentional interference in the other direction… That's what this has always been about. Not doing it all for them. Helping them. Encouraging them, in the original sense of that word, to do it for themselves. Going back to your last event talk on scaling butterfly effects… And yeah, quickly stepping in where they can't, until they can. That's a way better set of nav-points than 'never again'… Cause 'never again' leads to the question 'never what again?'… which brings it back, even if I don't say. that's not letting go, Max. They're too interlinked._

 _Besides, we have new problems to tackle. Nelson was right - the people closest to us, the front line, the insiders, the ones whose efforts really ripple outward now - they took their cue from us. We showed them hope and confidence, while still acknowledging a difficult reality. They put faith in us, while we put faith in them. They're the ones we help inspire directly. Lend strength or whatever to… But we played our part okay, helped turn that corner over the past few weeks, I think…_

She poked at her thoughts uncritically, gave them space to wander, spin, contradict, loosely connect - let them be what they were.

 _Meltdowns don't help that message is all. It's why I left last night… That was a very specific and amplified reaction to significant trauma, but…trauma based on events mostly erased from even that timeline. And we're ahead of it all in this timeline anyway, so it won't ever be real here, even for me, as anything other than a bad memory of…another life. You know it's true. Why doesn't it just go away?_

 _Solving the problem that triggered the reaction last night didn't require the reaction._

 _It nearly worked against it._

 _It's painful, and no, not ultimately helpful. I can't change what happened…I mean, yes, obviously, but…in my lifeline, I mean… I wish I could shut it off. It was the right move to leave, for sure - but it would be better if I didn't have that visceral reaction in the first place, I guess. Spinning. Don't like not being in control._

 _Means dealing with it. Or finding a way to let it go for real. Not just pushing it down again._

 _You have to get better, Max. This isn't good for you._

 _Yeah. Flip a switch. Great. Poof - you're healthy forevermore, Max… I know…_

 _The one person I wish I could talk to…kinda breaks the whole point._

 _Partial answer. What Sophie and Hector said years ago..._

 _But I'm not sure I agree - it serves no purpose to share all of that undone horror with Chloe. Just spreads it around._

 _Is it the same for the world? Be easier in nearly every way if they knew…_

 _If she knew, but…_

 _Worked out with our team. Giant scary alien whatever._

 _We fought for transparency with them._

 _Special case though. Right?_

 _Right?_

She knew where this line of thinking led.

How it exposed the contradictions in her own decisions.

Changed the subject.

 _Can't change my past-past._

 _But I can maybe change how much of it I take forward with me. Little by little?_

 _What was that line, from Tai Chi Master? ''Free yourself, make light your burden…'_

 _Wish I could make 'light'_ _my burden._

 _Carrying that shit's easy._

 _It's the dark stuff that gets too heavy._

 _Punny. K, Max. To-do list. Here's a starter. One - accept that 'never again' is already a fact of this reality going forward. Don't let that worry, that hurt that fuels it, lurk in the background anymore. It doesn't serve you or anyone else. Two - give less headspace to all the failures and tragedies and losses of a past that…won't ever be back. It's gone for everyone. Let it stay gone for you too. Three - more internalization of the reality of the now, and of our way back to a shiny new future. We've been there before. Even if we're on a different road this time. Might end up in a different place. But close. Maybe even better. Head there._

 _Whole point of a fresh start is the fresh start part, right?_

 _Everyone else gets one._

 _Why not me too?_

She scanned to the other horizon, the bustle, thoughts turning.

Eventually she caught up to herself. Sighed.

 _If metaphors are the battle ground, I think we're winning._

Knew she was right in principal though.

Still found it hard to let go in practice.

Old habits. Human nature.

Rational arguments didn't always have power over deeper hurts and feelings.

 _But you know all this…numbness to past sorrows isn't the same as a peaceful mind._

 _Don't content yourself with illusions…forgetfulness._

 _Be uncomfortable to yourself._

 _Little at a time._

 _But do what it takes._

 _Yeah. Big takeaway I guess, less negative-past orientation, more positive-future orientation…_

If there wasn't a switch she could flip, maybe there was a dimmer she could slide at least. Crossfade from one core driver to the next, over time.

 _Balance in all things, right?_

 _Which, I guess is a pretty extreme position, isn't it?_

 _Balance in 'some things' would be more in keeping with the spirit of the thought…_

 _Least this is a good reminder to go outside more, maybe. Don't lose touch. Be less of a hermit, experience the world as it is. It's pretty awesome out there. It's like today with the original vision for the photos, versus what you ended up shooting - you notice things that change your mind from time to time. Might come out better._

 _Healthy internal dialog._

 _Good talking with me, Max._

 _Heading in the right direction._

 _..ish._

 _Sort the rest in time…_

She capped the remains of her tea, replaced it in her bag.

Max got to her feet, perched up on the corner-edge of the high-rise. Felt the cool of the wind, as hair blew across her face.

 _Welp, that mental detour killed something like half an hour._

 _Gotta go back, rescue Chloe from whatever._

 _Take care, Mexico City. Thanks for hanging out with me._

 _And thanks for listening to me babble to myself, sorta._

She nodded, rewound a full hour, pushing the street traffic backward, the clouds to their source, and the world the wrong way to the horizon. She reconsidered the temporary nature of her tardiness.

 _Second thought, let's take the long way home._

 _Could use a slow lap…_

She pushed back another ten minutes.

Max took a breath, adjusted the strap of her bag. Eyes up, she stepped off the edge of the roof, rising. Turned her phone to landscape and hit record as the wind pulled at her. She bubbled, arced skyward across the city, chasing the sun, catching up. The land raced behind and below as she ascended past the gleaming silver points catching the light on either side; airplanes in mid-flight. Clouds stalled around mountaintops like waves breaking over submerged rocks. Snaking rivers flashed bright before joining with the vast expanse of ocean ahead. Land fell away completely.

She climbed on. She knew it was illusion, but she imagined that it was the world that was pulling away - the horizon dropping rapidly, 360-degrees around her. The thin curve of blue forward, black above. The sun reflected back off the ocean surface below.

The usual chill down her spine.

 _Yeah…this never gets old._

 _I wish they could all see it like I do. …one day._

 _It's so small, so vast, so much of everything. Big stupid beautiful ball of nonsense floating in space. All of human history. Every family tree. Every picture ever painted, every book ever written. Dinosaurs. Nintendo. Swimming fish, every critter that ever crittered. Nearly every bad decision. Every last minute save. Every historical adventure told, every conflict fought, every child ever born… Every single piece of bacon. And most of our time together - it all happened somewhere down there…_

 _Too many eggs…_

 _Won't always be true. But for now…_

She remembered a quote from the book Sophie gave her last year. Edgar Mitchell, lunar module pilot on Apollo 14, on looking back at the whole of Earth for the very first time. " _You develop an instant global consciousness, a people orientation, an intense dissatisfaction with the state of the world, and a compulsion to do something about it…_ "

 _Damn straight. See? Those OG astronauts got it…_

She took the lazy curving path around. The endless blue of the deep Pacific rolled on. A wealth of tiny islands broke through to the surface to the north. The sea finally gave way to the green and white of New Zealand to the south. The reds of Australia stretched beyond. Another sea, dawn, then into darkness. All of Africa, sleeping, night-lights on, the full moon watching overhead.

 _When I'm down there sometimes, I feel like this small, anonymous stranger in a crowd, but…up here…it's funny. Despite everything twisting in my brain right now, sometimes it's like the farther away I get, the more connected to everything and everyone I feel. And a little less like a stranger once I'm back on the ground again. Least for a while._

Across the wide Atlantic, along the northeastern edge of South America, scattered islands of light. The orange-yellow glow of interconnected cities pushed through broken clouds ahead, while lightning flashed between them to the north.

 _Seeing it all at once, maybe._

The Caribbean, the Gulf, the plains, mountains, and finally, back to the lazy sunset over their home desert once again.

Max paused overhead. Stuck for a minute on that thought.

Shook her head. Hit save, slipped her phone into her pocket.

She gave one final look to all horizons.

 _Hey Earth. You look amazing today._

… _just sayin'…_

She folded back to their kitchen in the city below.

Strap over head, she set her bag on the counter.

Feeling right with the world.

 _And mostly on time._

"Chloe?"

* * *

 **Max** called out again, "Chloe?"

A small holographic message appeared, floated ahead of her as she walked. It read _Shhhh. Video call in my office. Just started. Come in, but stay o.c._

Max gave a quick wave. Folded to the room-side of Chloe's desk, off camera, quietly relaxed into a guest chair.

The holo raced down the hallway, through the door, caught up and parked to one side of Max. It changed, read, _Three minutes late and still the world's most punctual time traveler…_

Max stuck out her tongue, looked around the room for some way to communicate. Froze. Popped into her own office for a small Moleskine notebook and pen. Released the world into super-slo-motion once back in her seat. In her notebook, she wrote, _And that's 'world's ONLY punctual time traveler' to you. What's going on?_ She kept it in her lap. Chloe had enough eyes.

The message refreshed. _Catch up time - I'm on an encrypted call with a rando claiming to represent "Them". Wouldn't have even bothered if this super-cute chick from the future hadn't said something to me this morning…_

Max wrote, _Huh. When it rains… What do they want? Wait - lemmie guess - they want the last two idiots they sent? Least they're learning. Called this time…_ Max drew a face with rolling eyes. Then rolled her own.

 _:P Don't know - we're not there yet, dude. Still torturing them while I cut through the layers of techno-obfuscation-bullshit they're running._

Max nodded. Slipped back to normal time.

To the screen Chloe said, "Wait. You went to all this trouble to get me creds and paths to your network, I show up, and your voice is still a modulated mess and you're apparently…what, a hand-drawn sugar cube? Why should I take this costume conference seriously? And, on that tip, why did you bother if this is how it's gonna be? Be quick. My bounce-clock is ticking fast."

Max scanned Chloe's face through the back of the large holo atop her desk.

Chloe's eyes narrowed. And like that, it was over. The cubic facade dropped, showing a real person and voice. Message space went blank. A pause, then in big flashing letters, _Boo-ya, bitches._ Faded. More calmly, _Cracked like an egg. Headers are wrapped in these encrypted packets…flags? I've seen these patterns out there before. Christ Max - he just handed us the DNA of their global fucking vid-comm traffic!_

Max quickly scrawled, _!?_

He said, "You understand - it is _Mrs._ Price, correct? I really must be cautious," unaware that Chloe stripped away his protections.

Chloe, playing annoyed, "That's correct. And…whatever - don't care. Why are we here?"

The message board changed again. _I just texted a few peeps. Let Sophie in, dude._

Max lowered her own defenses. Joined the link, accelerated to the speed of thought. _Hey love. Hey, Soph._

 _Hello, Max. John and Jeremy are here with us as well. Chloe filled us in._

 _Hey guys._

 _Max._

 _Hey Max, long time..._

 _I just saw you at lunch, John…_

To the link, Chloe asked, _Okay, anybody recognize this fucker?_

Mental head shakes.

Max felt the buzzing of furious activity just inside Chloe, partitioned beyond Sophie's link.

Chloe continued, _I'm running voice and face-rec…never-mind. Boom! Got him!_ Chloe flooded the link with data abstractions, images following along… _Ladies and not, meet Mr. Jacob Wallace. Huh. From…America's hat. Excellent. 'Sup, Canada?_

The 'Blame Canada' instrumental theme played softly in the background of the link until Chloe felt the mental kick from Max.

 _Fine. You know it's funny. Okay, dude's way old world money, shit-piles of cash; manufacturing to ag to mining and gas to services… North and South America, across Europe… Recently departed dad did a stint as Canadian Minister of Natural Resources in the 90's. Otherwise crickety on the personal stuff. Not much out there… Only child, private education, school transcripts…okay, pretty much runner-up for class everything; conspicuous pattern - that seems intentional. Top grades…focus on business and poly-sci… Board seats, foundation chairs, taxes going back a couple of decades… Wife…deceased - sorry dude - and three kids, 7, 8 and 12. Private schools, two full time au pairs. Private security. No legal run-ins, no flags, no references. Minimally viable digital footprint. High achiever, but not in the public eye. There you go. That's our square._

Mental shrug from John. _Don't recognize him or the name, but that doesn't mean anything._

Jacob, plodding along at regular speed, responded to Chloe's verbal question. "I'm here, Mrs. Price, because we find ourselves at unnecessary odds, and I believe an adult conversation between us is long overdue. I'm here because I…we…owe you a series of apologies and rather obvious reparations for the continued poor behavior of our subordinates, representatives and associates over the years. Unsanctioned, but we bear ultimate responsibility nonetheless. And I've asked you here out of genuine admiration and respect, knowing full well you have no reason to trust me. But we have to begin somewhere. And it's my firm hope that we might eventually build enough of an understanding to arrive at a mutually beneficial and acceptable agreement, if not quite friendship or cooperation. To that end, I come bearing gifts and offerings…"

Max interjected to the link, _That usually ends well in movies, right? Something about a hollow chocolate horsey full of dudes, or…?_

Sophie snickered.

Chloe mentally shushed them. Said aloud, "Seconds ticking down…"

"I am rather surprised that you're not taking the opportunity to elicit information, even if you're ultimately disinterested in what I have on offer…"

"Assuming you are who you haven't said you are. And assuming I care enough to care. Still waiting for the cliché 'offer you can't refuse' bullshit…"

"I certainly hope you won't refuse. But I have no illusions of control. I should think you'd want to at least hear me out, consider it, alongside your advisors or others. I wouldn't waste either of our time if I didn't believe you'd find our proposal of some value. We want more than peace, Mrs. Price. It shouldn't have ever been otherwise. You know that. But grievous errors were made - owing to supervisory lapses on our end. Rogue elements allowed to roam. It's put us on our back foot in this relationship. But those higher up are taking a firmer hand for the time being. The organizational leadership in the US that allowed these unfortunate events and interactions is…phasing out, shall we say."

Chloe squinted, "So that's confirmation of national autonomy with some form of global centralized oversight or control?"

Jacob smiled. "There you go. At some levels, yes. But it's still missing the point. I could provide you with a more detailed structural understanding later, if you wish to proceed beyond this conversation. Within reason - none of us has the full picture for rather obvious reasons."

"Interesting. So, these 'rogue' elements…"

"The events of New Year's last weren't borne of any considered top-down strategy, if you take my meaning. Nor was the unfortunate incident in Las Vegas years ago. Think of them as poor 'street level' decisions, fueled by an odd mismatch of insecurity and hubris. Each, was its own sort of localized madness, driven by an uninformed fear, ambition beyond any earned scope. Agendas aren't always aligned. Or equally informed. And when they are, their expressions can still deviate from acceptable limits. You yourself have some of our former associates among your ranks - you must know that we're not uniformly insane?"

"…"

"In time, then. On the whole, I'd characterize us as far more conservative than you might imagine. I don't mean that in the political sense, of course. Those are two edges of a three-sided coin. I meant behavioral. Exerting only a subtle influence for the most part. Invisible guidance through the dangers of the forest."

Max choked a little. _More like guidance deeper into the heart of a forest you've actively set on fire…_

After the briefest pause, Chloe said, "We'll come back to the forest bit, but speaking of subtle - I am curious about something. Why come to me? And not Caulfield, I mean? Why the end-run at the sidekick?"

Jacob nodded. "I suspect there's more to you than 'sidekick', but in truth, it's only conjecture. From what little knowledge we've retained of her - thanks in no small part to the redactive successes of your tech teams against our records - I believe we'll need your help convincing her that this is the best path forward for all of us. She'd never entertain with an open mind if you weren't already on board."

Chloe, aside to the link, _Okay…I have literally no idea what he's talking about with this - did we hit their data stores or something? Did we even know about them? anyone? no?_

Mental shrugs all around.

Max offered, _Maybe FutureUs did something behind the scenes? I'd buy that._

Jeremy, more slowly, _…or, there's another player on the board…_

Chloe gave a link-shrug. _Not sure if that's helpful or frightening. Occam for now. Maybe their software took a dump and their admins blamed the big bad… Which is prolly us, to them, I guess? Not enough info._

Chloe, to Jacob, "Lot of assumptions in there. You _really_ think you can convince me that we should make nice with the Legion of Doom?"

He smiled. "I understand that your experiences with us have justifiably led you to a certain place, Mrs. Price. But as I said, we have to begin somewhere. I'm taking a chance here too. And I've been candid with you out of a sincere respect. There's too much at stake for all of us, and I'm unconvinced that our relationship must necessarily be adversarial."

Chloe switched topics. "I notice you haven't asked about Andersen. Or that other, Dudeman Broguy whatever his name is…"

"Not my concern. I assume they've been helpful to you in some way. If they're still alive, perhaps some of what I'm sharing might be validated in small part. Neither was terribly senior, but Gabriel in particular has been around long enough to provide some sense of what is and isn't true."

Chloe leaned back, squinted. "So like, this is interesting and all, and I have a ton of questions if you're really willing to answer 'em straight, but I gotta ask, what's _your_ angle in this? Mole? Diplomat? Mousetrap? What's your role? You're not Dr. Evil himself, so what is it you want? Let's get that out of the way? It would help me to understand where you fit, and what your personal agenda is here…"

"It's rather simple. I want to open a proper, respectful dialog. And I have the provisional authority to do so. Hopefully build the foundation for a better relationship, to whatever level you're ultimately open."

Chloe shrugged, eyes up, "Okay, build rapport, mutual benefit, blah blah. What do you really _want_ , Wallace?" She smiled slightly at the last.

His smile returned was the only acknowledgment that he understood. "Ultimately? I'd like to offer her the United States…"


	15. Traversals

**Jacob** controlled his breathing. She might have appeared surprised for an instant on the screen, but he couldn't be certain of anything - Price's responses, what twists the conversation, negotiations, might take after. Assuming they got that far in whatever final version of reality those two deemed most favorable to themselves.

… _if that was even remotely how Caulfield did it._

He didn't lie earlier; held no illusions of control.

His identity was compromised going in, his loss of anonymity acceptable. If inevitable.

Anecdotal evidence suggested that they didn't take lives, so he knew the physical risk was low.

Even so, he didn't wish to repeat the common, obvious mistake; underestimating them.

Instead, he and his most senior thought-partners erred toward massive overestimation while formulating their path. It narrowed options but simplified their approach. No one ever had a talent so extreme, so…faceted and adaptive. And certainly, never one who built up a global organization around herself like a shield. _Twenty-thousand associates, in fewer than three years - she's already surpassed many of the younger mainstream families through her manipulations; can't take anything for granted._

Even the precognitives were blind to the outcome. Often the case with Caulfield's organization. Direct alteration of timelines was messy enough, but the advice of her precogs also shifted projected futures, changing what those on his side saw in turn, changing recommended actions on both sides, moving events yet again in the preemptive back and forth of their speculative psychic cold war. A war in which nothing actually occurred… But it was tiring. Paralyzing to his superiors.

Whether he could pull this off remained to be seen. His efforts were watched by the upper echelons and would be dissected by his peers well beyond his time. Big stage. High-stakes. Everyone understood these were unique circumstances. He wasn't nervous about the visibility. He'd grown into his father's role, into his machine, over a lifetime. Backed by teams of professionals, experienced, with each team below them harvested from the best and the very brightest, everyone at the pinnacle of their respective careers. And after all their exhaustive debates, modeling, arguments and rigorous analysis, his top advisors agreed. Now was the best window, this plan the best approach to his ends.

That the Board sanctioned his solution was, itself, an unprecedented and starkly honest acknowledgment of her strength. Six-percent of the world's land, four percent of its population, and a third of its total wealth. For one person. If only for a single lifetime.

All for a chance to reclassify her away from 'enemy'. And perhaps, eventually, to cultivate her as an ally. It was less about the chaos she'd caused, and more about containing the chaos she'd naturally create over the next sixty-odd years of her life.

But he knew, there was no telling what wonders they might accomplish if he was able to spin her over to their side. _First things first._

He wasn't especially nervous about Caulfield or Price either. They'd make up their minds on the merits. He was concerned about the ultimate direction, the outcome, of course. This was likely the last chance to recover to any mutual compromise. If they were half as smart as he suspected, they'd see their own advantage in it.

Other plans, designs, would roll downhill if they ultimately declined to participate. Not his.

He still favored a sort of quarantine in response to that eventuality, a going dark, if only for the duration of her life. Avoidance as a practicality. Wasn't up to him of course. Had his doubts about the likely efficacy of any additional confrontational paths, but better minds, perhaps. Element of chance? Maybe. _…probably not. She has such a profound mechanical advantage with time movements alone. Never-mind the other stories. But they may not feel they have the choice if she breaks the olive branch._

He had the fleeting thought that if her circumstances were to become genuinely dire, this conversation may be an inflection point to which she'd eventually return. Would he know? Would she tell him?

Regardless, either direction they chose after today was a validation of his father's legacy. Or, at least a 'told you so' echoing forward from his earliest calls for moderation. That was something. Jacob wasn't quite along for the ride. He'd try to guide, persuade, but indeed, no illusions. It was freeing in many ways. Left many forks in the road ahead, all equal in his eyes. Allowed him a negotiator's remove.

He studied her face on the screen. Price. Couldn't assume the conversation was new to her, or that they hadn't already played this through a thousand ways, a thousand times. Was Caulfield working behind the scenes? Would he feel the invisible marionette strings sewn into him between moments? Did he dance already?

His strategy, to counter all of that uncertainty, and his clear disadvantage, was to be as honest as he possibly could. No inventions or improvisational falsehoods that might trap him or break developing trust. No threats, bluffs. He didn't know exactly what plans the hierarchies above had on reserve, but none of that would matter today. Wouldn't be the thing that swayed them, if anything did.

A movement.

Price finally spoke. " _The fuck_ does that even mean?"

 _She sounds sincere._ … _perhaps this is the first time for both of us?_

* * *

 **Max** looked at her shoes, the dark scuffs on light rubber. Couldn't be sure which continent rubbed off. In the accelerated thought-frame of Sophie's link, she nodded slowly, her half-smile distant. _No… I get it. It makes perfect sense_. _For them, I mean._

John pondered, _Someone reasonable would have to figure it out eventually. Right? If they can't win - walk away? Finally convinced others, or asserted their point of view. Could be a power shift, or…_

Chloe interrupted, _…or they're just assholes from the third dimension behaving like 3-D assholes. Maybe we're only on with a single faction, or they're baiting us…open-face lying, like the evil Earth-frying dicks they are…_

Jeremy whistled out, floors below. _It can't have been easy for any of them to arrive here. The cost in pride, never-mind the operational chaos this will create for them…_

Chloe raced ahead. _Uber-obvious scenario - it's a control_. _A leash…something stupid. Least, whatever it is has to be to their advantage long-term, or they wouldn't bother, right? And WTF does 'we want_ _more_ _than peace' mean, BTW? Am I the only one super creeped out by that?_

Jeremy considered, _I don't know. But there is a chance this outreach may be different, Chloe. We shouldn't discount how formidable our collective appears from the outside, or our substantial impact in such a short run - they know us far better than we know them, yet they're the ones making a grand gesture. Acknowledging us as peers, or at least, rivals of a scale worthy of respect. Survival pressure. Whatever it is, for once, they're approaching us as equals…_

Chloe winked at Max, gave herself a mental hug. _Aww. It's so cute how wrong they are…_

Max smiled unconsciously at the reference.

 _I can see it coming, so I'll…play the devil's advocate,_ Jeremy offered. _As principled and feel-good as an immediate 'no' might be to all of us, there are some far-reaching implications and consequences we should identify and think through - before we make any final decisions. Obviously…nothing is ever final with Max, which is also the strongest argument for exploring the branches in front of us. Whatever their intended meaning, we should treat him with similar respect, ask questions, listen. Consider his responses. We might get some goddamn answers for once - or maybe even find advantages ourselves somewhere in any arrangement. That they intend it as a control doesn't make it one. Nor does it guarantee things get worse for us. I'm going to guess this isn't something they've ever had to consider before… Need to see what's in the give and take of their initial offer of…sorry…giving us…Max…the whole…goddamn…country… No, that's not…we should push hard for all of North America. If the US was their opening bid, that means they're already prepared to let more go…_

Sophie held worry out in front of her like an uncomfortable pillow.

Max thought softly, clearly, _Plain fact remains. It's not theirs to give. Nor ours to take._

Reminded of present company, Sophie let it fall away.

 _Maybe true, Max, but semantics aside, if their influence could be attenuated…even for a while…_

John jumped in, _Do we need their fucking permission for that, Jeremy? Sorry, but isn't that already our entire global operational plan?_

Jeremy broadcast his annoyance. _Can't we find some advantage in turning their machine on itself? Even if only for a while? Given your prior defense of former colleagues, some of them at least, I'm surprised you're not the one taking my position, John… Didn't you just say that someone reasonable would have to make a play for us eventually?_

 _Yeah, sure Jeremy, but look, most of the former colleagues I knew and respected are already current colleagues. Every one of them got filed under 'trust, but verify', and passed our not insignificant gauntlet of telepaths and future-casters. I've always said there are probably a lot of people, maybe even the majority working for them, who are like I was. Just people, doing something they think is mostly right. Small picture people, working in isolated silos of a big invisible machine. I don't want to go all Morpheus here, but until something changes, they're still part of that machine. Including this Jacob guy. And…Chloe's got some points. While there's no reason to assume he represents all of anything, the truer that is, and the bigger his picture, the less trustworthy it makes him. I don't know him, but if he's a hitter, he can't claim ignorance…or innocence. And if he's knowingly participating in any of the real shit that leads to Max and Chloe's hellscape on earth, there's no part of his deal we need to hook ourselves up to. We're not going to fix them. And we don't have to, so…I don't get this line that we have to give something up to get what we want. Not to them. Not when we'll do it all ourselves either way._

 _He hasn't said anything about that, John…_

 _Oh, come on, Jer. You know where this leads. Give and take? What's that old line about compromise between food and poison?_

… _all I'm suggesting is that we listen with an open mind, on the chance that…_

Max held up her hand in real-space, visible to all through Chloe's eyes. She had their pulse. _Thanks - thanks, everybody, for your first gut reactions, and concerns, and of course you're all probably right in different ways. But - it's a rare opportunity - this moment - which is ticking, by the way. We should take advantage and learn as much as we can. They opened the cage door. I kinda wanna go in and poke the bear, yeah? Chloe?_

 _Dude. Phrasing? But sure, I vote snoop. In all senses of those words, pretty much always, you know. But can we agree to assume like 94% of everything that comes out of Wall-ass's mouth is pure bullshit 'til proven otherwise? And…shit…I mean…I've been snarking with him to buy time, but what do I even say to the sales guy for the global death cult? Like, I'm trying to picture the end of the call - how does that even go? 'Toodles'? 'Laters'?_

Max shrugged. _Maybe you could politely request that they not do any of that mega-doomish stuff? If it's not too much bother?_

 _You know Max…this is maybe a better fit for your conversational charms - do you want to come in with him?_

 _K? I guess. You're doing fine, but if you're sure you don't mind? He did call you._ Max crinkled her nose.

 _Please. It's so obvious he's only using me to get to you. Besides, your universe dude…_

 _Well, technically, I'm visiting, but…_ Max shrugged lazily. _Eh. Just thinking out loud…in…thoughts. Shut up. I don't know - maybe I'll crash in unannounced? He has to expect that. I mean, guess it doesn't matter how we do the handoff, long as I keep the last pass clean, you know? Okay, sorry - um, executive decision. Chlo, we can play the cube game if we can, Soph, you'll see it all second hand, after anyway. Which means everybody else will - are you all good debriefing and making some decisions later? Have a feeling there's gonna be some jumpin' around here…_

They shared general thoughts of agreement.

Sophie reached out. _Max, please, be careful. They've had a lot of time to get very good at manipulation…_

Chloe rolled her inner eye. _Soph…you did_ _ **not**_ _just say that to Max?_

Sophie giggled to herself, underlining her joke as she disconnected them all.

Max knitted her eyebrows, wrote on her notepad, _Information about a person isn't the same as the person. Do you know where he is yet?_

The holo reformed in front of Max. Tiny letters blinked once. _LOL._

They morphed to a real-time satellite view with a map overlay.

Downtown Singapore.

A dot. A building wireframe.

Elevation markers.

* * *

 **Max** folded herself to the other side of the globe, suspended in open airspace. The warm sunset hues of Chloe's office crossfaded to the bright, crisp sunrise skies over Singapore. The skyscrapers of downtown clustered below, reaching up to the edge of light like so many broken crystal stalagmites. Across the bay, the observation wheel, Skypark complex and Marina Bay Sands gleamed.

She knew the skyline. They crashed the infinity pool bridging the top of all three hotel towers a full year before they had an office here. Chloe maintained an unusually long bucket-list.

To business, Max opened a minor wormhole between cities. Six tiny hummingbird drones flitted through the sphere, spit up, disappeared at velocity. They joined at least half a dozen native cousins already searching out the last of Wallace's remotely operated protective drones. Chloe would see everything they saw. And they'd see what Chloe wanted them to.

A double-click in her ear. _Time to thin the herd._ Max descended to the tallest of the buildings below, alighting in silence beside a lone rooftop overwatch guard, a neat line of cigarette butts beside him.

She reached down, rested her hand on his shoulder. Before he could finish rolling, she folded them to a bridge over the Seine, left him on his back in the Paris night. Unarmed, with no devices, comms or identification. She repeated the process with another sniper on an adjacent office tower before heading back to the one Chloe marked as Wallace's.

Two on that roof. Max slowed the world, relieved the men of their possessions. One she left on a doorstep at McMurdo Station in Antarctica. The other in a restroom of a high-security government office tower in Beijing.

On her return, she glanced over the side of the rooftop. A large private balcony jutted out some distance down. Farther below, the morning street-traffic pulsed in opposing flows of red and xenon amidst descending shadows and rising white noise.

Through her earpiece, Chloe's simulated voice; her real one still in use with Wallace back home. "K, Sparky. Pwn'd the drones. Four more meatbags in the living room below you, two outside in the foyer. Faux-yay? Foy-er? Anyway. Twenty-something more on floors below. Up to you on that. Another two in the lobby at ground level. Wallace is alone in an office two doors down from the end of the hall, right side. Room's bugged. Short term lease; nothing weird on the engineering docs, floor plans or scans, so…you're clear, doll."

Max hopped onto the low safety wall. "Thanks love. See you inside." Clicked off. Over the edge, she dropped six floors to the balcony, slowed herself, landing softly in a crouch. Through the multi-pane blur of reflected daybreak, she spied two business-looking people in the kitchen, two more on an oversized white sofa, huddled over their notebooks on the coffee table.

She reached up to the cold metal handle, gave a push. _Locked._ She slowed the world, tried again. The handle broke off, but not before the metal latches holding the slider in place sheared with a low snap. Shifted back to normal flow, slid open the door, alarms blaring. Two men rushed in through the front door on the far side of the living room, rifles ready. Two of the four inside unholstered their weapons, half turning. The woman closest recognized Max; dropped the pistol from her left hand while her right shot up as a signal to the others to stop.

 _Learning is fun._ Max walked in, spun the world back before any of them could react further.

Inside. Door locked. No alarms or awareness of her yet.

She could bubble them. Leave them frozen while she chatted. But she wanted to leave a message behind at the end of it all. Or at least reinforce an impression, maybe. Plus, it _was_ kinda funny. Totally worth the few minutes of effort to disperse Wallace's entire support and security contingents semi-randomly across the face of the world. Leaving dozens of wallets and phones and earpieces and guns arranged in helpful piles down the length of the marble kitchen counter.

* * *

 **Jacob** offered a restrained smile, responded, "It could mean any number of things, Mrs. Price. Dependent on what degree of isolation, or participation, might align with your collective goals or threshold for comfort. But, let's not get too far ahead of ourselves…"

"Sorry - hang on, Jake." Chloe absently put up her hand, looked away from the camera, distracted.

He was more amused than annoyed by her attempted affront. It was a familiar name, last used fondly by old school chums.

Chloe looked through him. "…company."

Beyond the monitor, the front wall of his office suite opened, slid sideways along the rails.

 _Caulfield. It's been only minutes - that's…she really can…_ He didn't know if her sudden arrival resulted from teleportation or time travel but noted the difference was academic. _She's here._ It was one eventuality. He started to rise, but she motioned for him to stay. Not in an imperious sort of way, but casually, as if to say 'no, please, don't on my account.' He held a hand to an empty lounge chair on her side of the desk. She poured herself into it as if she owned it. Her arm casually draped over the side-rest, her knees crossed.

"Might I offer you tea or coffee? I don't believe you're of age for the hard stuff, but if you'd prefer something else, I could have it prepared for you. Assuming…I do hope they're unharmed. They wouldn't have interfered with you today."

Max waved her hand dismissively. "No, I'm good, thank you. They're fine, by the way. Might be a little lost, but they're all adults. I'm sure they'll manage."

She wasn't at all what he expected. Smaller. And much, much younger.

* * *

 **Max** had questions. She clasped her hands over her knees and looked across the desk at the well-manicured man opposite her. Kept her voice and expression neutral, matter-of-fact. "I'm curious - what's the connection between your organization and the billions of murdered worlds buried out there in the dark?"

"…I'm…sorry - would you repeat that?" Wallace looked back as though he misheard the sounds, or wasn't sure they compounded to form real words.

Chloe snorked from the other side of the screen. "Queen of subtle…"

Max studied him. Too little sleep around his eyes. Recent shave and still-damp hair. No cologne. Omega watch peeked out from under a pressed, cuffed sleeve of his conservatively tailored suit.

To Max, his appearance seemed curated; but he had the bearing of a working politician. Not the TV-cheeseball type. More the behind-the-scenes kind. Maybe diplomat was the better description? She'd met a few. Made sense someone like him would be the one. But she couldn't tell if his reaction was genuine confusion or training. Not yet.

As she evaluated, the second half of Edgar Mitchell's quote from earlier crept back into her mind. _'From out there…_ _international politics look so petty. You want to grab a politician by the scruff of the neck and drag him a quarter of a million miles out and say, 'Look at that, you son of a bitch.'_

It crystallized an idea. Or maybe a test.

 _Fuck it. This is a brute-force Q &A loop anyway. _ "Let's cut to it, Jacob. Chloe, dippin' out. Extra cake in the fridge if you want it."

"Ooh. Cake. No such thing as extra, by the way. Have fun, babe."

Before the last of Chloe's voice faded, Max safety-bubbled part of the room around them, folded everything inside two-hundred miles straight up. The ceiling and three of the walls were gone, open to space. She re-oriented, to position the circular section of remaining office wall to the east, between them and the sun. Kept the world, half in darkness, below.

Uncertain, surprised, Jacob rapidly spun his head to try to see it all. Then swiveled his chair with more deliberation, scooted, leaned out. Finally, he said, "This…this is an _inspiring_ projection technology." He looked beyond the edge of the floor, to the bright half-circle below. "It's fantastic - is it from a real-time satellite feed?" His enthusiasm seemed real, anyway.

Max smiled. Stared at her folded hands. Waiting. "Real time, yes. …not a projection."

He snapped back.

She met his eyes, unmoving. Gave a small bored shrug.

He looked away, sucked in a breath. His eyes widened before he regained his calm, let the breath out again. He challenged with a confident smile, "Hmm… No, no, we'd…we'd float away if that were true."

Max shook her head slowly, lips pursed. "We're parked." She looked past him. "We don't experience a free-fall effect if we're not in orbital free-fall. You…you didn't think there was no gravity in space, did you? It's nearly the same up here as on the ground. I know, it's obvious but counter-intuitive."

Growing panic in his expression as he made mental connections and reality set in. "Oh." Blood drained from his knuckles as he gripped his chair, he pulled back from the edge of the floor, wheeled, scrabbled toward the desk, toward center. Delayed flight response with nowhere to go but in.

She asked again. "What's the connection between your little cabal and all the dead worlds out here?"

His face paled, glistened with the sheen of involuntary nervous sweats. He hugged his desk, gripping at its flat surface, eyes shut tight. "I don't know I don't know I don't know what you're asking or what you mean why are we breathing this isn't what…I feel sick…I'm…" He was shaking.

Max intended to catalyze a sort of calm awakening, to let him feel for himself that sense of tranquility and wonder and scale and cosmic unity, the fragility of Earth - as a relatable backdrop for her questions. _That didn't work._ He was turning funny shades of green. _Shit. Chloe took to space like…well, like a Chloe to space. Guess it's not for everyone, no matter how together they are on the ground_.

He heaved.

 _Yeah…fail. Ok…wait…_ d _on't barf, don't barf, don't barf!_ She folded them to ground level on the far side of Planet Steve. Bubble released, their circular chunk of floor settled onto a wide stretch of warm beach. The wall held. Sand lay a foot below the floor's sharp perimeter. One of the moons and two of the suns crept across the sky, as a few high clouds wandered away. A sea breeze pushed inland to the fields and forests behind them, adding distant whooshing noises to the abundant calls of wildlife. _Beautiful day out at least._

Wallace clung to his desk, resting his head, eyes closed, breathing hard.

Max let him be. She bounce-stepped to the edge and hopped off the platform. Over-corrected, pitching forward awkwardly into the sand. She looked around. _No one saw that._ First few steps in Steve's reduced gravity were always a little wonky. Muscles, inner ear all needed to adjust. She took a few loping hop-steps, stopping short of the dark, wet line marking the upper reach of the water's edge. Tiny air-holes peppered the darker sand.

A mile out to sea, long, tall, slow-moving waves broke against the sandbars, breaks, and reef-like structures, sending placid echoes inward to their beach.

Max fell backward to land in her shadows, kicked off her shoes and socks. Waited for him to recover.

The sand felt good. She dug her toes into the cooler layers below. Salt air, suns, green and red clumps of sea-plants drifting, water lapping over the shore. _We need to make time for a vacation. Just Chloe and me…_

Something nibbled. Tickled. Friendly little sand cleaners.

Behind her, a creak, and a scratchy thump at the end of his fall. She called over her shoulder, "Watch that first step. And give yourself a few minutes to adjust. It'll feel weird for a while. But hopefully better. Sorry - I didn't expect you to react like that."

Odd shuffles drew closer. Wallace let himself down, gently, a few feet to her right. Knees half-bent, his creased and cuffed legs extended toward the water. His dark leather dress shoes fought off clinging sand grains. His breath remained uneven, if improved.

Max, distracted by the rhythm of the strange and distant waves, "You get used to it. You know, we…Chloe took some measurements. The atmosphere's close, but a little different. More oxygen, but the air's thinner. Less per breath than earth - but not by much. You're feeling everything at once is all."

He coughed. Struggled his words out in rasps. "I must take motion sickness pills when I fly…"

"Kinda…ah…didn't realize. My bad. Sorry 'bout that."

He looked back to the forest, then up to the sky. Rubbed above his eye. "Where?"

A squadron of four-winged shore 'birds' called out overhead, playing in the currents.

Max chuckled. "Chloe and I named it 'Steve'… It's super-dumb, but…it stuck. It was a dead rock when we found it. Had been a living world once, in the distant past. We…brought it back. Guess we kind of adopted the place after that, you know? Anyway, you're sitting on an ocean beach of a Mars-sized exoplanet, orbiting a trinary star system, a few hundred light-years from Earth…"

He cleared his throat. "…named _Steve_."

She smiled. "Yeah. And really? That's the weirdest part?"

"I…wha…" He laughed softly to himself, "I'm not at all prepared for this. We did our best not to underestimate…you…aren't at all what I expected."

She tossed a few pebbles into the waves. "Imagine. And we've only just met."

He carefully brushed the sand from his trousers. "What now?"

Max leaned back. "Now we can talk."

Jacob nodded. "Do you mind, a minute? I'm still…"

Max wiggled her feet beneath the sand. "Course."

Staring out to sea, he asked, "Tell me about the last book you enjoyed?"

She didn't expect that. "Huh?"

"It will help me to understand you better."

"Well, okay. But only if you tell me about your late wife. It will…help me understand you, if I understand what you care about. And why."

He hesitated. "You…well…" Relented. "…fair."

* * *

 **Chloe** clanked her fork against the dish, swallowed cake. Dark outside.

 _So fucking good. Wonder how many times I've eaten this though? Am I in this like, total recursive chocolate-cake-eating time-loop? Worse fates I guess._

Max popped into existence across the counter. "Hi, love." Blew Chloe a kiss, pulled up a stool.

"Mrrph. Oh. Hey, dude. Been like four hours. Finally said fuck it. Cake?" Chloe cut another small piece with her fork.

"Heh. Not without milk. I am hungry for real food though. Four hours for me too. Steve says 'hi' by the way." Max hopped off her stool, turned, opened the fridge with a 'schwoop' of rushing air. Liberated a container of raspberry yogurt from the door, twirled back to her seat with a flourish.

Chloe leaned her elbow on the counter. "How'd it go?" Took another lazy bite.

Max grabbed a spoon, stirred. "Not done. Pit-stop on my way back to the final pass. Hey, you mind if I tell you everything now, and you can maybe update a cube for yourself? I don't wanna have to redo The Grand and Awesome Scattering of His People, and there's a five-second gap outside his door I can use to drop you a copy of this convo. That way, you'll know what's up before I get in there with him?"

Chloe shrugged. "No, dude. It's cool. I can take a memo. Kinda weird being my own executive assistant, but whatevs. Mind if I keep eating though? Curious to see if this cake will be as good the second time. You know, for science?"

Max laughed, "I adore you, weirdo."

Max brought Chloe up to speed on her loops with Wallace, what she learned, and what was next.

Chloe slumped. "Shit, Max. I thought this might have been a bigger break."

"I know. Might still. Eventually. Just a different kind maybe. …it's a big crack at least. Know way more than we did?" Max shrugged.

"Catch and release?"

"Yeps. Bad timing is all. But…let's see if we can't trigger a few defections in the final pass. Maybe weed some of the casuals from the hardcore?"

Chloe lifted the final bite. "Interesting to see how this plays out." Popped it in her mouth.

"Yeah." Max got up, made a face, cleared the table and wiped down the counter.

Chloe watched, chin in her hand. "Hmm. You're so funny sometimes."

Max turned. "Huh? This? Oh yeah. I guess. Don't want to leave you with a mess is all."

"So considerate. Get a last kiss before you reset?"

"Course." She met Chloe halfway around, gave her a long, relaxed hug. "Mmmmmrph."

Max smelled like sunshine. Chloe kissed her goodbye. Handed Max the cube, felt a brief stab of fear. "Okay, go, quick. Fuckin' weird, knowing it's coming."

Max nodded in understanding. Like it wasn't the first time she'd heard it. "See you before, love."

Chloe closed her eyes.

Quietly, Max said, "Poof."

Nothing.

Chloe opened an eye. Scanned left and right. Opened the other.

Max was gone.

But everything else was still the same. Including herself.

She patted at her body, just to be sure.

"Wait. _What the shit?_ "

* * *

 **Max** clasped her hands over her knees and looked across the desk at the well-manicured man opposite her. "I understand you have an offer for us?"

He folded his hands on the desk. "Yes, although I was hoping to preview the broad strokes to Mrs. Price, for her feedback and guidance prior to taking up your…"

"You get used to it," Chloe's voice intruded from the screen facing Wallace.

He locked eyes with Max. "Apologies. You have me at a disadvantage."

"That's never gonna not be true." Max smiled, not unkindly. Held his gaze.

Chloe again, "Yeah…try and roll with it, Jake. Gets easier."

Max continued, "Okay, so… _I'm_ here to discuss your unconditional global surrender. But…you know, you called us - what's your thing? You go first."

* * *

 **Chloe** circled the kitchen. "Max?" Merged into the building's feeds. There was hustle everywhere - full house. Pushed out to the Vegas surveillance shell, crowded and crazy as usual. None of them should exist. Max left. Or…should they? _Fuck._

A footfall behind her.

She pulled back to herself, spinning to the sound.

"Oh! …oh… _You've_ _ **gotta**_ _be fuckin' kidding me…_ "

"…come on. Can't hold the collapse too long or they'll notice."

* * *

 **Jacob** thought he should feel something in her presence. Trepidation, awe, anger. Something. Her looks deceived. Disarmed. Here was a girl, _the_ girl, not three feet from him.

She found him from a world away. A girl who once moved an entire mountain, supposedly. Even with their digital evidence of the event erased, their geologists, cartographers confirmed the seismic, topological and magnetic readings unambiguously last year. The area within a measurable circumference had, at the least, rotated by a full degree from where it began. Unimaginable, even if the rest was nonsense.

And yet, sitting face to face, his doubts lingered. Such an extreme talent as that couldn't possibly be. And certainly not in the form of this slight creature. He knew better; that what he perceived to be a cute fluffy kitten was, in reality, a fearsome and fully-grown lioness. But the part of his brain attached to his eyes disagreed. All he could see, sense or feel was that harmless kitten. The same mind-trap which tangled so many into miscalculation.

He set his thoughts aside, put on a face, reclaimed momentum. "I was working on a speech for when we met. It was meant to set the tone. Forgive me, but missing it is the unfortunate penalty for short-circuiting my process. Instead, you'll experience the unpolished matter-of-facts, Mrs. Caulfield.

"As I was previewing to your partner, these are preliminary conversations, but we're fully prepared to cede you the territory of the contiguous United States, to do with as you will. In the first scenario, we pull away, and it's yours to control, free from our influence or interference, for the duration of your natural life. You grant us the same assurances regarding the remainder. We don't cross paths again.

"But…in another, and this may be the more intriguing direction, you assume the leadership role for the same territory within our organization. A vacancy is opening regardless, and you've proven more than capable. Existing families, houses could choose exile elsewhere, or remain under your direction. Not all who are born into this world fully embrace all aspects of our momentum. Some might welcome the change of local direction that comes with new leadership. A few rules, but you'd find a place at our table. A voice. A vote. An opportunity to influence the broader activities of our collective over time…"

He thought she might have shifted in her chair. Appeared to consider. Finally, she said, "You're offering me a job. Working for whom, exactly? On what specific agenda? Sorry. Rhetorical. Both flavors are generous, and I recognize the gesture didn't come easily. But we'll have to respectfully decline. Even at the outer limits of what you're prepared to give away, it's not a beneficial deal for us."

"But…"

"You came to us, which I appreciate, but…we don't need anything from you guys. We're not going to quarantine ourselves within artificial borders when our world is a connected whole. We're not going pull our clean water, fusion or food initiatives. Or any of our other projects. They're meant to help. Which is both the means and the end of our plan. We won't ignore the preventable suffering of others around the world - for…what? There's no reason to withdraw back to the States for some tenuous promise of safety that we can guarantee ourselves. Our goals, our missions, supersede yours in every way. I could go on. But we've spoken about the conditions you intend long enough for me to see the specific controls. Enough to know it's not going to be a fit." She paused, addressed the back of his computer. "Hey, Chloe, I'm gonna cut you loose. You can go ahead and drop off - we'll catch up later."

Price, still onscreen, appeared annoyed, but not surprised. Disconnected.

He did the math. "I see. Of course. That explains the…I…you moved, I think. For how long have we been speaking?"

To his surprise, she answered plainly. "Half a day. Give or take."

It worried him. A disquieting sense of violation, loss of agency... What transpired in those lost hours? He experienced mere minutes with her. He was confident in his approach, but could he be sure of his every minor reaction, when picked at repeatedly? "Am I to assume, then, that my arguments were uniformly unpersuasive? Have I failed us all so utterly? I don't wish for any of what might come next…"

She nodded. "You made some compelling points. I've come to understand your role - and I believe your sincerity. Don't misunderstand - you're still the bad guys, even if you won't own the worst effects of your collective behaviors. All that's gonna come to an end, of course; how is up to you. But I see now; your people's fear, lashing out, comes from a place of misunderstanding. Of the world, of yourselves. Of us, our motivations, where we're headed - even what we are. Which is _nothing_ like any of you…"

He struggled to connect. "Then please…tell me, what are you like? If I'm ignorant, educate me. Share your objections, that I might help the others understand. There must be room for common ground. And if not, perhaps ground itself might be changed, made common - fence-lines moved, boundaries redrawn. We don't desire to retain you as an enemy. And you shouldn't seek it of us."

She looked away, unconcerned. "I don't see it like that. It's more you're irrelevant."

Her casual dismissal stung, even as her voice soothed. The feeling surprised him.

She continued, "Unchallenged, you're all a danger to this world. But you're not unchallenged this time."

"We're not a danger…"

"…sorry Jacob, you are. And I'm not interested in subtly influencing your collective over the next sixty years…in making your actions maybe slightly less reprehensible. I see the appeal for you. The arms-length of it. I know that part of you senses something's broken, without seeing it's you. But understand, we're also not in it for any of…this. Wealth and power and whatever else… If we were, we'd already have all of it. But, I do appreciate the efforts you've gone to reach out to us. And I…well, against better judgement, perhaps, I have a counter-offer for you and your peers or whoever else. I know they probably won't accept today, but…"

"What was it you said? Unconditional surrender?" He didn't feel like smiling, but he did. He could accept the failure, if only he felt as though he'd participated in it. This was hollowed out; missing time. He wasn't prepared to give up so absently.

She gave him what might have been an ambiguously kind smile. "I was kidding. We both know better. You're barely middle management. You'd have us join your collective as equals, but shackled and blind as you all are, bound to follow fragments of plans you yourself don't understand, doled out over decades by people you don't know, for an unknown purpose far beyond your lifetime. All in exchange for what privilege you enjoy now, and the promise of the same for your children. That's what you'd have us become, if only to avoid open conflict. Another cog. But it's because you don't understand. None of you do. You're all incredibly stupid and petty and selfish and the most absolute boring kind of evil, and what you do causes genuine harm to everyday people, but…you're not the ones shaping the _big_ picture. Which makes it all the more tragic. And our refusal, our independence, all the more necessary for everyone else."

Pushing her words aside for later, but sensing an opportunity to keep an open dialog, he said, "You were kind enough to listen to my offer. The least I can do is to hear yours. Help me understand what you mean?"

* * *

 **Max** went over all of this with him at one point or another in prior loops. But she was only exploring. Satisfied, she had a series of arguments to guide him through before parting ways. Thought contagions individual enough to pass a scan, mixed with a few persuasive talking-points she'd agreed to arm him with during her final pass.

And an audience. She knew the cameras were there. Asked Chloe to leave them be. She wanted their dialog, this manifesto, recorded. It was meant for the others as much as for Jacob.

She spoke deliberately. "My counter is simple, Jacob. Either get out of our way, retire - or put everything you have, every last resource you can lay your hands on, and as many of the others around the world as will join you, to work for us."

"How would your suggested partnership differ from…"

"Not as co-equal partners, of course - you don't deserve to be that. You've said more than a few times that most of you were born to this life, but far as I can see, you've all chosen to stay, to participate in countless shitty, unforgivable decisions - so that's just how it has to be. You can either wind it all down and disappear, or do whatever you can to help. As some attempt at personal or familial atonement or salvation…or out of pure self-interest, as the obvious and only choices you have left. Because I know where all those fragments of plans lead. Even if none of you thought to ask."

Jacob slowly crossed his arms, his tone cautious. "That seems a terribly extreme and unlikely choice for the majority of my counterparts to willingly make, given their histories and…commitments. And it's a false selection that may not lead to the outcome you'd like - we're all deeply entwined with nearly every facet of functioning society. Ingrained in the minutiae of the day-to-day logistics necessary for the maintenance of civilization. You're asking the only experienced pilots to bail out of an aircraft full of passengers mid-flight."

"Your pilots are flying us into a mountain." She raised an eyebrow.

"That…interpretation aside…I fear you've also leapt to an overly broad and unfair characterization of quite a large number of people, Mrs. Caulfield. I openly acknowledge, and agree, that you've had unfortunate experiences with an unflattering side of us. You have. And we wish to make that right. But you've also recruited from among the best of us. Our actions might appear uncomfortably grey sometimes, even to ourselves, but we're all human, too."

Max shrugged. "No, I know. I get all that. It's why we're still talking, and why there's an offer on the table for you at all. For the others you represent. Families. Whatever. And the ones you don't. In your own ridiculous, convoluted, paternalistic ways, you all can think you're doing it to help the rest of us - to provide a structure and to guide us and control our rate of change - and you can continue to believe that justifies the rest - and what you take for yourselves. But believing only keeps you wrong for longer. And you guys _are_ the wrong side of history right now. Full stop.

"By separating, setting yourselves _above_ everyone, you failed at any pretense of being in it with the rest of us. But whatever - we both know it's all kinda bullshit anyway. It's easy to be taken in by your upbringing - a lifetime of wealth, fighting for the generational bragging rights or your positions in the little power-games you all play. Which would be harmless, except they're not.

"Here's the root of my issue - so you understand - I know what you'll eventually do to this world, left to your own devices. 10 billion dead. Countless more that should have otherwise existed. Food chain collapse. Nukes. Biowarfare. Mass extinctions. Unimaginable suffering, bringing out the worst instincts in a dwindling humanity for generations to come. So much was lost forever…" She trailed off, remembering. Caught herself, glanced up.

Jacob blanched. "With respect Mrs. Caulfield, that makes no sense. Those aren't our goals. The contrary. If this misunderstanding is the basis of our conflict, I beg you to consider - it wouldn't serve anyone to ruin the world. Even at your most cynical read of us, you have to see there's no status, no comfort or profit if everyone's dead. There's no shaping history if it ends. And no family legacy if there's no future…"

"Kinda my point." Max looked away. "But it's not a matter of consideration. I felt how…quiet the world gets. And how loud. Survived, while so many people…better people…way better than you or me…didn't… Have you ever in your life felt _real_ hunger? Been without food for three weeks or more, when the last food you had before that wasn't nearly enough? I have. Something changes. Everything. It's hard to describe. And the…open pits, diseased and radioactive… the…the things people did to each other…" _To Chloe. To all of them, I couldn't…_ She stopped the world. Forced herself to take a breath. Let it go. She took a beat, restarted and continued. "I lived through the nightmare world you created. That's the funny thing about time travel everyone forgets. The whole _traveling through goddamn time_ part…"

He appeared surprised. "Wait - you…you're saying _you were there_ …you can move forward?"

She deflected. "We're all moving forward, Jacob, but you're still missing my point…"

He pressed his hand to his forehead. "Okay - but…if it's as you say, you really must be mistaken with your conclusions then. Of the causes, of… If what you've…seen…is true, if the awful future you experienced is still waiting to be real, it's so far been invisible to us, our prognosticators. Something must have gone terribly wrong with the world you saw. But that doesn't automatically make it _our_ fault. Or our world. It doesn't guarantee it will be true again. It hasn't happened yet, here. And if it comes, I swear, it won't be our choice…"

"Not by your design, maybe, but it's where the cumulative expressions of your control and influence ultimately lead. Or, perhaps, it's where you're being led." Max leaned back. "You guys suck all on your own, don't get me wrong - but your structure, your machine…I think you built a very dangerous tool. And now, there's a chance, a possibility, that it's being used as a weapon, intentionally turned on the world, to murder it slowly, over centuries… I don't know for sure. Or maybe it was originally constructed for that purpose. Or maybe it's not. But if so, somebody in your mystery hierarchy knows the truth. Meanwhile, the rest of you continue to blindly honor these old family deals with each other, and with whoever's sitting upstairs guiding the big picture. That's who I ultimately want, by the way. The man with the plan - the source of all this nonsense."

He shook his head, grappling with her words. "Mrs. Caulfield, Max - forgive me, even if what you say is true in some…speculative future, it would be a _failure_ of our guidance, not the purpose. And if we are somehow responsible for that failure, or have somehow been used… _don't we all stand a better chance with you helping us_? Alerting us to the signposts, changing the course - and the outcome - from inside? You'd have more direct information, access to our people, and in time, a significant influence of your own. We're not without Inquisitors, but they aren't you. Aren't looking for the same things, perhaps. It wouldn't happen immediately, but I believe a strong case for audit committee participation or co-chair-ship could be made in short order, given your talents and knowledge. Surely you see that being close to the source of power and decisions is the best means to arrive at a better destination? You'd have a seat at our table, and the strongest bargaining position of anyone in history - but only if you combine forces with us."

 _Gotta give him credit…_ She chuckled, "That was smooth. Bringin' it back. I'm sure your pals would love sharing power with the new girl, and wouldn't hesitate to hand over control of internal affairs. But seriously, I'm not gonna be taking any chances with the fate of our world, thanks. If we're down to that, I could probably head everything off by killing you all right now. But I'm trying to avoid that too. Personal karma reasons, I guess. And there's always the strong possibility you'd only be replaced. I'm looking for a…kinder way?" She grew serious. "But there's one thing about me you and the others should understand. That's a _choice_ I've made. To allow you to exist. But my patience for the harm you and your friends inflict on bystanders isn't infinite."

Jacob paused, stunned as though struck in the face. Processing the directness of her threat. He had the same expression in a prior loop. He finally replied, carefully, mirroring her seriousness. "We're all grateful, I'm sure, for your restraint, Mrs. Caulfield. But at the risk of further irritating you, I…I would again ask that you reconsider your isolation from us. Especially in light of what you believe to be true. If you joined, if you could see for yourself our tireless work, the breadth, scope of effort and care it takes to prop up civilization... While I have no doubt that there would be some among us who would work to isolate and marginalize your position at our table, control your voice, I'm not at all certain they could…"

Max rested her chin on her hand. "I'm certain they couldn't. And you? What would you want that's different? If not control?"

"To _engage_ with you. Think of the wonders we might accomplish? With our influence networks, knowledge and resources? With your talent? Far beyond even the considerable amount you've done on your own."

She shrugged. "I'm hardly on my own. And you guys would still kinda point us in exactly the wrong direction I think… Your motivations shaped your architecture. Every day would be like fighting a rip-current. That's the funny thing, Jacob - without your collective interference dragging us all backward, the people of the world would probably build themselves a shiny future within a couple hundred years. Might have even had it by now, I don't know. But on balance, our way, we're gonna help them get there in a hundred. It's as controlled as we can make it while avoiding certain cliffs. You should be grateful."

"You have an unreasonably idealistic view of the mass of humanity," Jacob laughed, without conviction.

Max thought back to her afternoon adventures. "There's way more good than bad, especially under the right conditions. And yeah - I think they're fucking amazing. They deserve to make their own futures."

"It doesn't work as you expect." Jacob leaned back from the desk. "There will always…emerge those who collect power to themselves, and those they wield that power over. Or against. Unmanaged, it's random, bloody and dangerous. This way, our way, allowing some freedoms while moving together, the worst of the cults of personality and conflicts between old tribes and powers are tempered, vetoed. Sometimes, the least bad is still bad. It's not perfect. But through our influence, selecting who rises, who stalls, it's been better for most."

"And _much_ better for the very few at the top than for most of the rest, I'd say. Which is right back to 'who influences you'? Can you be sure there are no concurrent networks? Parallelisms? Overlapping independent doom-cells inside? You'd have no way of knowing…"

"Not that I've ever heard of. But again, if you're truly concerned, that's all the more reason you should join us. Work with us, from inside. It's true, those I speak for are mostly angry, or fearful of you. For now. But they only see you as a confusing rival, a disruptive threat. They don't see your full potential. I do."

"You really don't." Max fought a smile.

Jacob tensed. Appeared troubled. Frustrated.

 _Good. About time._ "Whatever. My motives here are simple. At one point, there were fewer than ten-million humans alive on Earth. I know, it's probably too abstract for you, but…believe me, what you're all doing now leads to all that death and suffering. I want it stopped. And of course, I want the world to come together, and I want them to rise. But…that's also up to them. Conditions have to be right. But here's a thing you guys maybe don't quite get yet - I don't even care about you. For all that. End of the world isn't happening again anyway. And you're only garden-variety global conspiracy evil. Job opportunities for asshole overlords will phase out in less than fifty years. It's partly why I've been willing to let you slide." She shrugged. "I mean, don't get me wrong - I have questions for the people above you in your organization. The ones designing and handing down these pieces of plans… And if the wholesale destruction of civilization, of life, honestly isn't what the rest of your peeps intend, maybe they should have some questions too."

"I feel as though we're splitting hairs," Jacob offered.

"We're not. I know, it's weird all at once like this. You came here asking me to work for you guys. Here I am, telling you that one day, you'll maybe work with us. But it's not the same. The difference is, it won't be the way you're operating now. Carving up the world and controlling in secrecy. It's wrong, and it stops..."

Jacob smiled, impatient. "This, coming from you? Who operates, manipulates, in no less secrecy?"

 _Ouch. Burn._ Max squinted, replied, "That's…perhaps an uncomfortably fair point." _Shit…didn't see that one coming…_

"But you see, I won't condemn you for it, Mrs. Caulfield. You acknowledge, as do we, it's a manifest necessity - to operate freely, without the tedious complications of scrutiny. Meaningless dissection by others who lack access to complete information, or the perspective needed to objectively process it, were they in possession of the facts. Or open condemnation by the masses we seek to guide, who couldn't shoulder the burden of responsibilities we all bear on their behalf.

"They don't honestly wish for themselves the responsibilities of individual freedom or the continuous mental work of differentiating the moral complexities of truth - as we must. They take natural comfort in the illusion of it when packaged for them. What they need, what they find, is direction and distraction. Someone to show them how to behave, what to buy, what's acceptable, that they might get along. They don't want to _feel_ as though it's being done, of course. They need their illusions…

"Publics are the least complex variable, in so many ways. Studies and history show they're satisfied with choice, even when they know the limited palette of similar options available were pre-selected for them. They'll demand safety, but reflexively fear those with the power to give it to them and the means by which it might be accomplished. They'll demand the freedom to express themselves, never grasping the irony that the thoughts they'd express were never their own. And that as often, no one around them would care to listen. And in their endless supply of empty outrage, they all wish for themselves freedoms they would routinely deny to others. They could never justly rule each other. They never have. Comment boards on the internet - that's an unfiltered portrait of your amazing, self-guiding humanity. I'm sorry to say it's unflattering.

"And all these contemporary notions of transparency are so awful in practice. Imagine the fear and recrimination if they even suspected what you alone could do? Beyond anything seen. Even if they couldn't harm you directly, they'd hound you to the ends of the earth. You might even have The Real Truths, all the way down from the mountain, but they'd never accept them from you if they suspected what you were. You fear their misunderstanding, their disapproval. And you're correct to do so."

 _Fuck. Nullifying tangent…we're dangerously close to a re-do here… hold on…maybe…_ "Maybe. Maybe that's all true. Maybe not. None of us are perfect. We're all just so many confusing blobs of brain parts trying to understand ourselves, and mostly getting it wrong - but we all deserve the benefits and responsibilities of our autonomy. That's the better way to say that, by the way - 'we'? And honestly, if you can't see the truth of what people are, if you don't love them or admire them, even just a little, then you can't possibly have their interests at heart - and you don't have any business at all trying to guide them anywhere."

Jacob pressed, his expression curious. "Honestly though, you don't see _yourself_ as _better?_ "

 _Okay, back on a familiar track. I can work with this._ Max smiled as enigmatically as she could. "I'm…something _different_. And that does come with responsibility, I think. To try, to be helpful. But you'll never make things better if you see people as something to be controlled. Something separate or beneath you. It's right there in your language. A pronounced and external sort of 'they'. Which is funny, since it's how people relate to you as well, the ones who suspect or know of you, anyway. _**Them.**_ " _Full circle - time to sink the hook…_ "But everything you've just said about your views of human nature and the dangers of self-rule and transparency could equally apply to you all, from the perspectives of those above you. But…you don't even _know_ your own leaders, do you? Or theirs? How do you decide for yourselves if you agree with their agendas? Your agendas? You can't. And that, my friend, is the difference between us - autonomy. I have it. You don't. I know my agenda because I set it. And it's to help find a world where divisions, power imbalance, and needless, preventable suffering doesn't exist. I'm open and clear about everything I wish for our people and our world." She laughed, "It's mostly right there on our website."

He didn't react, but she knew her words would come back. Combine with others to form new thoughts…

He finally nodded to himself, as though they'd agreed on something. "Mrs. Caulfield, we're not that far apart. Timing and means, perhaps. Only, we've been at this long enough to know there's a balance to maintain, between leaders, nations, militaries, economic systems, commerce, levels of regional development. Controlled phases, measured change. Just imagine if it were all allowed to go on unmanaged. Look to the last couple of centuries, as a recent example - what if every nation on earth had industrialized at the same time - the conflicts over fuel and energy, the effects of pollution, population growth, arable land, so much more, would have multiplied catastrophically. Natural resources would have depleted completely by now… We're not at all uncaring or blind to human suffering. But there is a level of acceptable trade-off to the dangers and damage of unmanaged growth and progression. Some must unfortunately pause, regrettably suffer, that others be spared and advanced, with all the remainder eventually pulled along. There is a design, a stair-step or bootstrapping we've managed for them. The so-called first world and third world will reach a sort of parity within a century and a half. At a point when the technology and infrastructure are in place to handle the load…"

Max rolled her eyes. "…and at a point where you've successfully extracted the maximum leverage from finite resources in out-of-the-way places? Yeah. Right. Or…or…with all this wisdom you supposedly had, you could have invested in people, engaged them in their own future from the start. With comprehensive education, mutual respect, a culture of cooperation, basic infrastructure, fair compensation for the resources taken, there would have been hundreds of millions of new bright minds applied to collaborating, finding solutions to all kinds of problems. Add up the missing centuries of creative effort from the third world _you created_ , and the whole world could have pulled themselves up, kickstarted a global surge of shared prosperity like nothing we've ever seen. With a simple push that would have cost so little at the time. Instead, you held some peoples, entire continents, back, leaving all the others diminished. Those decisions alone are so comically bad, so monstrously beyond unethical, and so completely misaligned with your stated goals, they bring us back to the obvious bullshit factor. You can lie to yourselves, but I don't buy it for a second. You guys just like being on top of everyone else. Fuck. That."

Jacob leaned back, held up his hands, eyes on the ceiling. "Your solution then is what? Go it alone? Give them all free energy they don't have any idea what to do with and hope they don't kill themselves? Cripple a significant percentage of the global economy that _we've_ built in the process? There are so many unconsidered knock-on effects to that alone. Cascade failures…this wealth redistribution, hurting the rich to give to the poor nonsense is university Marxist cliche. It's had its uses, but… I know you're still young, but I expect more sophisticated circumspection from a thinking person of power, regardless of age…"

Max leaned forward. Made a 'yeah…no' face. "I think we're pretty far apart, Jacob. First, most obvious, it doesn't work. That plan you think is your plan - apparently, it isn't the real plan. Or maybe you're just terrible at executing it? I don't know. Everything went to shit long before any of that basic equality stuff could show up. And is that really what your cronies think of us, by the way? Robin Hood? That's the threat you guys are worried about? It's not pie. We're not taking from anyone. We don't want _any_ of your money - you can keep it, whatever - literally don't care.

"We're not keeping the status quo though. Status quo sucks for way too many people. You already know that. But, making you poorer or your life worse doesn't help anyone, either. That assumes there's a finite money supply and you guys have it. But we know - value, wealth can be created where it never existed before. And we're all about attacking the cost side of things anyway - with the right technical advancements, intelligent automation, production costs for most things dropped to almost nothing. You guys have to have modeled this stuff too? Quality of life skyrockets, everyone benefits, 'need' becomes a distant memory as abundance becomes the norm? No 'need' for you, though, in any of that, right?"

He smiled weakly. "At least, then, we can agree that there are benefits to automation…"

Max shook her head. "Except your execution of it put people out of work without addressing the cost side that would've made it humane or sustainable. Complex algorithm chains and robots fucked everything pretty hard - least for a while. But they don't have to. They were handled wrong first pass. We'll do it better this time. If we add free energy to robots, give them better instructions, point them in the most beneficial directions, it's a whole different game…"

"Listen to you…you're talking about shattering intricate, finely tuned and interconnected global trade and financial systems - it's nowhere as simple as you seem to think… They aren't somehow separable from politics or power or any of the rest of the glue that binds societies - which _are_ the supporting infrastructures for the people you claim to care about. There's unfathomable arrogance in thinking you can just…"

Max cut him off. "Pot. Kettle. We lived your version. And we helped the survivors recover from it. And within a handful of generations, with most of you gone, they made the best of science fiction into reality. It's not arrogance, Jacob. It's experience. Perspective. When I tell you to let go, 'we got this' - I'm telling you literally - _we've got this._ Not us by ourselves - but the big 'we' - with everyone else. We're here to help, not control. And we've done it before under worse conditions with fewer resources… Shiny goddamn future - jet packs, cities in sky, self-walking ice cream, whatever - it's all gonna happen again. We're heading in the direction that's best for everyone - but it's not _worse_ for anyone.

"Anyway, you asked - and that's the basic offer and the message to get across to the others. Just…stop all the bullshit. Enjoy the ride. It's not gonna be simple or painless, but that's on all of us to manage. The change that matters is the kind that creates a framework where everyone enjoys the benefits of wealth that we few do now. Period. We need to raise everyone's standard of living to obscenely fucking rich - fast - no one left behind, no one on the bottom, no rungs at all. A life free from worry about basic shit - a life where people feel encouraged and healthy and empowered to be the best them they can possibly be - where the world is back in balance with itself, and nothing is out of their reach."

"Back to your rote university idealisms… It's an economic and social fantasy. The real world, societies, markets are far more nuanced than that. You advocate a re-write of complex global operations, whole economies… but people haven't suddenly evolved. It would guarantee the very chaos you say you're trying to prevent!"

Max threw up an arm, laughing, "…says the principal creators and sellers of global chaos… But yeah. Fuck it. Total reboot - to something better. They'll figure it out, make it work - and they'll make it their own, and way more interesting than we could ever design for them. People aren't part of an equation to factor out, Jacob. _They are the equation._ We were gonna do this with them over a century. Give everyone a chance to adapt. But if your folks keep up their bullshit, make disruption seem like a good idea, we could push it through in as little as ten years. Still might. Jury's out."

Incredulous, Jacob asked, "And you assume the others wouldn't give a tremendous push back against such a complete disruption? Please, please, don't be this naive - and don't underestimate them, Mrs. Caulfield. I've given them the same warning about you, but don't think they won't react, all the same. Especially when threatened. Don't make the mistake of treating them as though they're trivial to you. You guarantee open conflict when you attack their egos. And you may discover too late they can be more dangerous than you seem to think - amorphous, like water. You can stomp your feet and make a dramatic splash if you like. But if you look more closely, all that happens is that water moves out of your way, and you fall through the space left behind. Once you do, it rushes right back in, surrounding you, growing deeper, drowning you. Understand, you only displace water. You can't hurt it. Can't break it…"

 _Uh. WTF?_ Max tilted her head, gave him a half-smile. "First, that's such a terrible metaphor on literally every level. The visuals, the mixed assertions… Go back to the wave one next time, maybe. Okay, I mean, I've seen worlds that were once covered by massive oceans. Where life was abundant. Water worlds. Dead. Desiccated. A planet once covered beneath seas miles deep, dry as a bone. _That's_ the patient business of a star… Eroding, breaking molecules apart, dispersing the remains. Only hydrogen and oxygen, after all. The constituents of water can burn as easily as they drift. See? Bad metaphor. Or, you know, could always just freeze water, then break it? Whatevs. Works against your point is all I'm sayin'. Sorry, but…"

Jacob, baffled, "What are you…talking about? Worlds?"

Max shook her head. Pointed their conversation in its final direction. "Sorry - we're oddly ahead of ourselves. And behind ourselves, I guess. Let's try this - keep it simple - do you have children?"

"Well yes, but you leave them out of…"

 _Time to reel him out of the water…_ "And do you care what kind of society they live in? How about your grandchildren? Theirs? Do you care at all what _kind of people_ they grow up to be? You talked about legacy, and then you offered me the United States. I'm turning you down, yes, but I'm also offering _all of you_ the world in return. The solar system. The galaxy. The best of humanity, where everyone rises and thrives. Your children will grow up to be so much more than you are. Free from all this bullshit you have to deal with. Safe from the future you left them. And all you have to do is…stop the bad guy shit. Go golf or whatever."

Max stood up, leaned forward, hands on his desk. "The things you're fighting for, for yourselves - nice stuff, safety, a good happy life - I'm simplifying, but these are the things we want for everyone. We're trying to help the whole world achieve this amazing potential - and I've seen it firsthand, it really _is_ their potential - and you guys are fighting us all the way - why?" She pushed back, leaned into the side wall, gestured with her hands. "Cause you want to work harder? Be shittier people and inflict pain on others? You see where this goes now, right? Is that the life you want for your kids?"

She sped her delivery. "Everything's changed. Time to catch up. You can't claim ignorance, Jacob. Any of you. You each have a choice in what you do next. The terrible grays you play in, the dark you all do - engineering wars, famines, selecting rates of infant mortality and all the other random bullshit that hurts and separates and diminishes people - it has to stop. One way or another.

"Talk to your people. Tell them. And if they decide, in the end, that it's not enough, that they want a war with me, I'm telling you it doesn't matter that you can't win - it won't happen. I won't allow the collateral damage. I'll reconsider options I've taken off the table long before I let anyone else repeat my history."

She slowed again. "I guess, in the end, our only real mission here is to undo the effects of yours, intentional or not. Because we all deserve better than you've given us. And there are more significant threats out there, and much bigger opportunities that we all have to come together for.

"So - when I leave here, we're gonna continue to do our thing. And you're gonna relay my counter-offer to all of your whatevers - cash out. Live the rest of your lives in extreme luxury. Binge Netflix. Don't care. You're already set for generations. And things will only get better for your kids and grandkids from here. Seriously. I'm offering you all a free pass. If you continue to fight me, us, you'll only be getting in your own way. You're not separate from the world we're trying to save, you know?"

His voice revealed an unexpected hint of desperation. "Mrs. Caulfield - please, they already see you as a chaotic threat. It's why they've entertained this unprecedented agreement. But they may not uniformly believe that you're enough of a threat to justify everything you're asking of them. The asking alone may cause a chain reaction - I fear that…"

 _Nearly there._ "It's your job to convince them, Jacob." Max leaned over the back of her chair, hands clasped. "You're the one who represents their interests. My offer is in their best interest. Maybe focus less on the threat, and more on the benefits to them? Or not. Maybe play up the threat. Whatever works. I don't care. You said in another loop that you were taking great pains not to underestimate me. You still do, but it sounds like you believe most of them will too. It's okay - you don't know…you're still trying to relate to me like I'm some kind of exotic talent, so in a way, how could you not? To help you persuade the others, maybe it's time I cast a little light on that…"

Jacob, confused, "What do you mean? What else…" But there was something in his expression, just as he asked it.

Max relaxed. "More." She let the word hang in the air between them. "Jacob, you all need to understand - I'm nothing like anyone you've ever seen. And I'm nothing you can control. I've stood in the pale blue glow of Neptune's rise over the frozen plains of Triton. After flipping Triton itself to a sustainable orbit and a new rotation. I've raced beyond the edges of your observable universe, tens of billions of light years - under my own power. Resurrected life, entire ecosystems, from the ashes of murdered worlds… I can make galaxy-class black holes with my _fucking_ mind, and I've been alive for a very, very long time. And now I'm here, from your distant future, to keep all of you from making the same mistakes that doomed so many along the way. Maybe, just maybe, your people should be the ones to very carefully consider - who are any of _you_ …to _me_?

"And what's the measure of your offering? Containment? Polite sequestration? Pass. I want world peace. Empowerment and real prosperity for everybody. You included. Why are you guys such dicks about this? You make a point that you're all people too, with families and the rest. You should be on our side, not fighting us. There's still time. But…like I said, I know you probably won't hear me. Not loudly enough. Not yet. I sincerely hope you will. And I hope that when you do, it's not too late." She stopped. Stilled. Left him time to catch up.

Jacob eventually leaned forward. Sadly. "Forgive me, Mrs. Caulfield. I don't have a…I don't know how to respond to any… Although…I agree that we're…at an impasse. I sincerely wish it weren't so. I can see that you obviously, passionately, believe what you say. Although, they may not take everything you say on faith… I believe you mean it…"

 _Time to throw him back._ "Of course I do. We all do. They can verify Triton themselves, by the way. Should be enough for benefit of the doubt on the rest. Believe me when I tell you, they won't appreciate a more intimate demonstration. But none of you have to fight us, Jacob. There's nothing to fight over. Just let go. Let us run with it. Nothing changes for any of you. Work less, maybe. You couldn't spend fast enough to deplete your fortunes before we make them nearly unlimited for everyone anyway. It's a good deal. And…as a closing thought, any among you who choose to retire, or to help, will have our protection from any potential reprisals by the ones who choose to remain." With that, she took a step back.

Jacob considered, troubled. Still seated. " I…you know I, I…can't…"

 _Boo-yes! Victory._ "I know. Not yet. I realize this isn't how you expected this meeting to go. For you, for others, just give them the message, Jacob, that's all. Disband. Shut it down, as non-destructively as practical. Walk away, and we won't fuck with you. Or if you want to help, you're free to help. That's it. That's my entire deal. Pass it on."

Jacob rose. Reached into his pocket, wiped his glasses, slowly, mechanically, with a cloth. "I understand. I don't, but…I do. I'm not convinced they will at all. The conversation among ourselves will take some time. I…honestly don't know what else to say."

"Time for me to go."

"Wait, before you leave…one…forgive me…I wasn't completely forthcoming with Mrs. Price, earlier. She asked. Andersen, Gabriel - they don't work for me, and they've each been a pain to me in different ways. But I've known them for some time… I do _care_ what ultimately happens to them. What will you do?"

Max gave him a short nod. "I'll cut 'em loose. You've given me what we asked of them."

He looked away, turned back. "Thank you. And, Max…Mrs. Caulfield, on a more personal note, I suppose, I…do wish I'd met you when I was younger."

Max smiled. "More impressionable?"

"Less…well defined. You don't mind showing yourself out?"

"Not at all…"

* * *

 **Sophie** was conscious enough to realize she was in that dream again. Falling through the flames. Swimming through cold, turbulent waters with dolphins, or maybe porpoises? Something else. Dark shadows somewhere above.

The vibration at her wrist took her out of the moment. The silent voices outside, their thoughts, grew more insistent. Pressed in. She was cooking breakfast in an industrial kitchen. Eating at a desk in another room. She was showering, bright light overhead, hot soap streamed over scarred wrists, past regrets. Aware of other dreams, a man in an angry office, which turned, became a rainy day in an empty field. A woman caught out in the avenue during the annual Running of the Pugs. An old man, asleep in bed, with his arm over another. Unfocused. Waiting in a car outside in the dark, listening to German trip-hop. The buzz intensified. She startled awake.

She was warm in her hotel bed.

Her watch glowed '5am'.

Max was calling her.

 _Only two hours._ Sophie hit 'ignore', fell back into her pillow. Linked.

 _Morning, Max._ Stretched under the covers.

 _I'm so, so sorry to wake you up, Soph. I know, this has to be the least vacationy vacation ever…_

 _No, it's alright. I could probably do this in my sleep now. See? I'm still funny._

 _You are. It's the only reason we keep you around. :-) Anyway, I'm back, thought we should bring everyone up to speed. Are you okay? Can you find Chloe real quick?_

 _Of course. And of course. Hello, Chloe. Max, would you like the others now?_

Chloe hit pause, _Hold off for a sec, Sophie?_

 _Holding._

 _Oh, hey, Chlo! Where are you, babe? I'm back upstairs._

 _Hey, Max. Wasn't sure how long you'd be. I'm downstairs, working in the lab. Thought we should talk real quick before the others get on though._

 _What's up?_

 _Following our rules. I'm annoyed with you, Max Caulfield. Don't wanna let that sit._

 _Wait, really? What did I do?_

 _I love you to pieces, and you know I trust and respect your judgement, but you're not the only one here, you know? I thought we were gonna get some intel, then talk about things, decide what to do with the rest of our team?_

 _Wait, what? But Chlo, I came back with a cube, told you I was gonna…_

 _That's right. You_ _ **told**_ _me what was gonna happen. You're doing that more, lately._

 _O…kaaay. Not on purpose? I'm sorry? But…wait, do you disagree with the choice, though?_

 _Telling them to fuck off? Absolutely not. I mean, maybe we could have played along for a while. Drag out negotiations over the finer points while doing more recon. We had a giant 'for the duration of your natural life' loophole with your whole 'Conner McLeod' thing you got goin' on… We didn't even talk about that. But look, I'm okay with the direction, but I'm also annoyed because you cut me, and the rest of our team, out of the decision completely. You assumed, but…even if you're totally right about what we'd say, you didn't give any of us a voice, or chance to feel like we were involved. What's up? I know you've got centuries on the rest of us mere mortals, but…this unilateral thing isn't like you._

 _Okay, but Chlo, I mean…there's no way we join forces with these people…not after…_

 _Okay, but…this isn't just the Max Caulfield show either… Is it? Is that the message you want to send to the rest of us?_

Sophie saw both sides. Max's core absolutes, with their genesis deep inside her secrets from Chloe about the first timeline. Chloe's hidden struggles to keep her head above water, her conflicted feelings about the gifted, artificial origins of what made her special, while trying to be the equal partner of her goddess. They were passing the right words, but not sharing the thoughts and feelings behind them with each other. The sharing that would help them understand. Heal. Grow. Sophie could cut through it for them. It would be so easy. And…a profound violation of their trust. One of the more frustrating aspects of her talent. But…it wasn't her place…

… _Okay, Chloe. I mean, I could go back and do it over…_

 _That's not what I mean, Max._

 _Then I'm confused. Just tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it. I love you, and of course, you're half of this team too, and you're right. I didn't mean to cut anyone out. I just thought the answer was so completely fucking obvious… There's so much going on and I didn't even consider that you'd want to go a different way…or…how it might make you guys feel. :( I guess…guess I'm an asshole. I'm sorry, Chlo._

 _You're not an asshole, Max. But you have to be more careful with other people is all. Not even about me - I know you - it's everyone else, you know? Optics matter. They need to feel our respect. With your level of power especially, we need to be seen as with them, not…_

… _over them. Fuck me. I was just lecturing Wallace about exactly the same goddamn thing… :( What should I do? Help?_

 _For now, let's take the middle course? Why don't we say that we both agreed - technically true (after the fact) - and had to make a quick call in the moment (if that moment is right now). But if any of them strongly disagree, we can still talk about it and make the final decision together. Go back and change things if needed. Alright? Soph? Does that seem fair?_

 _Yes…and…so does sharing this talk between you with the others. It's not a failure for either of you to make mistakes, to be human. It makes you more relatable in almost every important way. Perhaps it's also beneficial that the others see how quickly and openly you check each other, to ensure that you both remain grounded and that your behaviors follow the most ethical and correct principals. And as a reminder to them that you're open to their feedback and correction as well. Just an additional thought. I'll follow the lead you set, of course._

Max, chagrined, _Dammit. I'm sorry you had to be here for this, Soph. But…I'm glad too. And you're right. I'll…fall on my sword with the crew. It was my bad. Sorry, Chlo._

 _It's okay, Max,_ thought Chloe. _I was annoyed, not pissed. Had to say something though._

Sophie, gently to both, _Your willingness to be wrong is a part of what keeps us right._

 _Yeah. I don't know how, Sophie, but sometimes you're wise beyond even my years. Let's go ahead and grab the others, give them the download real quick? Then we can let you get back to sleep?_

Sophie connected the rest of the leadership team. As they all caught up, she drifted. Decided she'd speak to Max and Chloe individually when she returned. If she couldn't break down the walls between them, she might at least make each of them aware of their own. And remind that they should consider sharing with the other.

Best she could do.

* * *

 **Juliet** closed the metal gate, leaned into the corner by the door. Texted Alex.

JW:: I'm out front.

AR:: Jules? wth? It's almost 1am? nvm Give me a minute. Grandma's sleep - shh

JW:: Cool. Sorry. Thx.

The door below the main stair of the brownstone opened with a halting creek. Dark inside. Alex peeked her head out through the opening, bleary-eyed, whispered, "Where you been all week? And what are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry, I just got back from Vegas. Working on a thing for my internship. Look, I need your help with something, but I didn't want to talk about it over the phone."

"And it couldn't wait 'til class? Or, you know, like, daylight?"

"I know. I'm sorry. It might be nothing, but it's probably better if we keep this between us. And I'm in a hurry. I know, that's shitty."

"What did you get yourself into now?"

"I'm not sure. Help me find out."

"Okay. Vaguely intrigued by the vague. Come on. Leave shoes and bags by the door."

Juliet followed behind Alex in the dark, hand on her PJ hood for guidance.

Alex led her into her room, closed her door behind them, turned on a lamp before rolling up a towel to block the gap underneath. In hushed tones, "Tell me. What are you into, Watson?"

"I was working on a story for the Journal. And a source inside this company gave me a thumb drive. I can't get in. He said it was time-encrypted or something."

"Got it with you?"

"Yeah. Here." Juliet reached into the change pocket of her jeans. Handed over the drive.

Alex held it up to the light. "Okay, nothing special lookin' about it." Opened up her notebook, plugged the drive into an adapter. "Let's see. Not mounting. Huh. Okay. It's acting like there's nothing…oh wait. There it goes. Took a sec to read." She opened up a drive utility. "So the hardware shows up, but it's like there's nothing else there. No partitions, no data, so, no drive."

Juliet leaned forward. "He said there was a time lock. How would something like that work?"

"There's lotsa ways. Hardware prolly, since I don't see any code here that could run anything. I'll have to get into the case to know for sure. Might get something off the chips if it's not filed off or all resin. Clock is an exploit vector for sure, once I know how it checks. But…" She opened a terminal window, loaded a utility library. "Shit. Thought maybe it was an OS thing, but it's not showing any kind of low-level volumes. Is this even a drive? Might be wiped - did you X-ray it at the airport? Or maybe he gave you the wrong one or somethin'?"

"No, and I don't think my source would make a mistake like that."

"It doesn't look like there's anything here. Weird. Sorry. Where were you? Help if I knew. That and some idea of what you expect to find on here? What kinds of files or whatever?"

"Like I said, I was in Vegas. I was after a friendly interview with an old acquaintance. Max Caulfield, but…"

"Wait…shut up. Max Caulfield like as in uber-genius Chloe Price's Max Caulfield? Damn. I didn't know you knew anybody sorta famous. She really from outer space?"

Juliet laughed, "Funny. Anyway, it was just an interview, but my bosses stuck me with a babysitter, Elliot, who does all these corporate stories overseas. The whole thing kinda went a different direction once he got involved. Anyway, this other guy who works there handed me the drive before we left. Said it was important. I don't know what's on it. But I need to find out."

"You could always wait for whatever timer he put on it. Did he say when?"

"No. But I can't wait anyway. The last couple of days, it's like something is going on at the paper. I think. I don't know. I sent in copies of my notes and the audio and parts of the drafts Elliot and I have been trading back and forth, but I haven't heard back from my editor. I'm probably being paranoid, but I feel like I'm being edged out of my own story. Without me, they wouldn't have gotten in the door, but… I'm going down there tomorrow, but…maybe if we can find something new or good on here, I'll have a way to make sure they can't cut my byline completely?"

"That sucks. And don't take this the wrong way dude, but you _are_ just a lowly intern…"

"Think you can help?"

"Yeah, but if we're talking real MCCP tech, I'm not getting in with this shitty notebook. There's a dude owes me a favor, might be able to get early morning access to some tools to open it up, and one of the nodes in the CT labs. If that's okay? You don't mind leaving it with me?"

"No, it's okay, thanks. I owe you. But the fewer people who know about it, the better? 'Til we know what's on here at least."

"I got ya. You should go. Get sleep. See what I can do."


	16. Interference Patterns

**Chloe** laughed, squeezing Max. "Wait…wait - say it again? Pleeeeease?"

It stopped being funny a couple of weeks back, but recently cycled back around to being funny again. The cycle of stupid inside jokes rolled ever onward.

Max wiggled part-way out of Chloe's body-hug, gave a lazy, resigned sigh. "Fine. I told him, and I quote, 'I can make galaxy-class black holes with my fucking mind…'"

Chloe rolled away, snorked, near tears. "God, I fucking love you, Max! Ahahahaha! Did he shit himself? Could you tell? Please….ahaha…quick! Jump back for a…a…turtle check?"

Max winced, swiped at Chloe. "Ew! No. Stahp."

"Poopcheck…heheh…on aisle number-two? Bahahahah! Get it? Number two? And like, ohmygod does it happen to all of them as they all watch the recordings? …oh man…shit! Heh - ack!" Chloe caught herself as she slipped off the other side of the bed, pulling the sheet from Max as she recovered.

Emo looked up from his drawer, the slits of his eyes shining in the dark.

"Stop, Chloe," giggled Max. "You're horrible! I was on a roll, and it just…kinda came out."

Chloe, breath faltering, "…ahaha… _just came out?_ Hahahahahaha! It writes itself! Oh, come on. Poop jokes, dude…heh…shit never…ahahaha…gets old…snork! Get it? Shit? And…and…a big black hole? …cause….Hahaha!" Chloe rolled into Max as her fit descended.

Max rolled her eyes at the ceiling, hand to her forehead. Pulled at the sheet. Chuckled. "You're seriously like…the worlds smartest idiot or its dumbest genius…so stupid."

Once Chloe calmed, Max nestled sideways into her, resting her chin on Chloe's collar-bone. Whispered soft kisses into her throat. "Mine tho."

"…yours. Sorry. You're totally stuck with me now. Mwahahaha."

"You know, you're tremendously silly. It's like three in the morning. Fuck. Why are we awake again?"

"I don't know, dude. I was in sleep mode. You're the one who's all fidgety." Chloe nuzzled.

"Maaah. Sorry. I just - it feels like something should have happened by now, you know?" Max curled more tightly into Chloe. "Meet the big bad, exchange pleasantries, trade ultimatums, and then…crickets."

"You didn't expect them to fall apart inside a couple weeks."

"No, but—"

"…but…it will take them some time. A few families have reached out already. Tentatively. I know you're keeping track."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know, I know. I guess. I don't know, Chlo. This is gonna sound super stupid, but after all the destruction and bullshit and absolute horror-show world-fuckery they caused in the last timeline…I guess - I don't know. I thought they'd be bigger, somehow? You know? Whatever that means?"

"Banality of evil cliches? They're still giant dicks. And here's hoping you feel the same after we figure out the what-the-fuck of the _real_ capital-B-style Big Bad…"

"Yeah…me too. Lose more sleep over that later. Should we start calling our local Earthican guys the little big bad maybe? So we don't confuse ourselves?" Max smiled in the dark.

Part of Chloe wandered the city. She thought that might have started while she was sleeping. Wasn't sure. She watched the early morning lights from somewhere high above… "Maybe. More sleep might help too." She remembered the calendar. "You nervous about our uber-fancy Valentine's Karaoke date tonight?"

"Yes. I'm sure that's what's keeping me awake. And all, what, ten of us?" Max reached, pulled Chloe's chin gently toward her.

Chloe moved with her, bringing her lips to rest on Max's forehead. "Nine. _Mmmwah._ "

Max returned another soft kiss to Chloe's throat. "Okay. You're right tho. Gonna be a long day. Least we get to chill away from everything for a few days after. And now - it is the time for the sleepy time-time… fall with me?"

Chloe snuggled, closed her eyes. Whispered, "that train's long gone…"

* * *

 **James** Andersen leaned in against the cold, wet face of the granite mountain. Roughness grabbed at the sleeve of his thick parka as he dragged forward. The eroded path ahead, icy, narrowed to the width of his booted foot.

One in front of the other, heel, toe. Crunch.

He pressed his body into the rock face, careful not to push too hard, propel himself out. Hoped the minimal outcrop would bear his weight.

Fast mid-step to the other side.

Below the gap, a skittering vertical drop of a few thousand feet. No chance he'd catch himself on the switchbacks far below. One bounce, and he'd fall away, lost to the dark. His life was in his own hands now, the dangers of his path providing the final elements of chance.

The cold worked at his exposed cheeks, crystallized his breath into tiny icicles. Their growing bulk pulled at his scraggly new mustache and beard.

He was a free man. A freed man - in more ways than one. From her. From Them. Perhaps even from some prior version of himself.

His weeks away gave him…an insight. Two. It worked at him, after. A result of something all too rare in his prior day-to-day - space. Attention surplus. He existed under duress, them pulling at his mind as they did. Fought to remain empty, but even so, he found something back there in that well. That hollow of resonant isolation. His sustained, peaceful blanking left him with a hint of something he'd last glimpsed long ago.

Something he very much wanted to find for himself.

* * *

 **Ariel** missed the moment of transition. The reality-crossfade when their after-hours HQ lobby disappeared, and a bright, mid-day conference room in their Tokyo office took its place. Aside from the sudden shock of daytime, it was disconcertingly continuous. Like a cutscene. _Dammit. Blinked._

She didn't have a feel for how this was all going to go. Out of her element. And yet…not, in a weird sort of way. An acute case of extra-wheel-syndrome, for sure. But she helped Sophie find the venue, and…they _did_ invite her.

And she couldn't think up a single passable reason that would allow her to bow out, to retreat home to the comfort of her Netflix queue.

Somewhere behind, Chloe, in her best pilot-voice, " _…and we'd like to thank you all for flying AirMax. Please do remember to keep your hands and feet inside the universe at all times as you de-board the boardroom. We know you have a choice of multidimensional transportation options, so we thank you all again for choosing - Max…_ "

It was challenging to stay serious-minded when the bosses were so playful. _Not that I have any reason to be serious I guess…aside from literally everything, everywhere, at all times._

Ariel's attention defocused through the boardroom windows to the far horizon. The city. The winter cloud cover. Its bright rain.

She was here. Close, maybe.

… _nearly ten years. Still think about you, Toshi._

It was all just…weird, was all.

Hector sidled up as they passed through the double-doors into the open floor. "You been here before?"

Startled, she turned. "What? Me? Uh. Tokyo? Or the office?"

"Either?" He pulled his shoulder-length hair back from his face with both hands, casually securing the excess in a top-knot with a hair tie. Errant strands fell forward again.

"Um, 'yes' to Tokyo. 'No' to the office. You?"

Head down, Hector smiled, glanced past the workers looking up in surprise from their workstations, out through the glass wall to that same vast, elaborate city beyond. "I've been to this office. But never Tokyo."

Her brows knit together. "Wait. You've never _once_ gone outside? That's…no. We're fixing _that_ today." This was still technically her hometown. Sort of. She held back, considered. Committed. _Screw it. You're here._ She put on a mental hat, smiled, relaxed, turned around and asked the group at large, "Okay - to ensure maximum fun, who here reads or speaks any Japanese?" She raised her hand, a new bounce in her backward step. "Anyone?"

Their group walked a path through a few of the local support staff working the Sunday shift.

Max and Chloe were the only ones to join Ari with raised hands.

Sophie shrugged. Finally rolled her eyes, gave a short 'of course' sort of hand wave.

Ari grinned. "Cheater."

Sophie, privately, _In my experience, language is often a hindrance to communication. Especially between those who assume they share one. But yes, I suppose I have nearly infinite windows to all the pan-lexical nuance you could want…at your service, as needed. ;-)_

John, hands down, "I have a SoCal restaurant command, but that's far as it goes for me. At least without tech. Soba? Maguro? Asahi? Sake? Good enough?" He looked to Tracey with raised eyebrows.

Tracey shook her head. "I can butcher Mandarin acceptably, which I imagine isn't a slight bit of help here. If we need Spanish or Arabic, though, I'm your lass."

"I can help on the first one." Hector raised his hand.

Ty remained silent, acknowledged a few fellow employees to one side with a nodding half-smile and a raised hand.

Hector looked back at him with a grin, "Forget your words, big guy?"

Ty shrugged, kept quiet pace.

"Mr. Williams speaks English quite…Americanly," offered Parker, slowly, as though uncertain where he was going with it.

"That unfortunate trait extends to his Czech, Russian and Arabic too…" John quipped with a smile.

Ty shrugged, "That's why Strauss always had checkpoints, and I handled bartenders."

Max joined in, "I'm not sure what kinda globe-hopping night you guys were thinking… Hey, how are you?"

Max was distracted at the end by a friendly wave from one of the receptionists, who offered each of them a small, wrapped box of Giri-choco.

 _Right._ Ari gave reception a heads-up that they'd be passing through, but didn't realize it was Valentine's day. She thanked them, carefully opened her box, popped the chocolate in her mouth. Turned attention back to the group. "Okay, well, looks like it's up to us girls to keep everyone on point, then." And with that, it was decided. Today was like any other op. Best way for her to fit in was to take small charge, or, in this case, play guide. Try to be 'festive' on this holiest of made-up greeting card holidays…

She stopped them in the elevator lobby. Turned again. "Wait… how many of you have been here before?" She cast a quick eye-roll-glance at Hector. "And you know, have _gone all the way outside_?"

More hands. Max, Chloe, John, Ty. She counted. Ari hadn't been to this office before, but she knew the building. Mori Tower. Roppongi Hills. _Okay - up top first._ _Ariel view. Heh. Please don't say that out loud._ Finger pointed toward the ceiling, eyebrows arched, she addressed Max. "With permission?"

Max shrugged, made a face that kindly hinted it was ridiculous to pretend she needed anything of the sort.

"Alright, guys. We'll start on the roof. Ten floors up, I think? Wait…is this 44 or 45?" MCCP had a full two floors in the building, but she didn't know which was their landing zone. She craned, found the elevator display. "45. Nine floors it is. Beautiful view of the whole city from the 54th-floor roof deck. Tokyo Tower, parks, skylines in every direction. It's stunning up there. I think you'll like it."

Chloe threw her hands up, teased, "Guess I'm on raindrop-deflection duty…since none of you scrubs thought to bring a goddamned umbrella…"

"Those things'll poke your eye out," suggested Ty. Common hazard for the tall.

As they piled into the elevator, Parker asked, "Will there be more food? At any point? What? The sweets are delightful, but I'm half-starved."

* * *

 **Chloe** slipped her free hand into Max's as their entourage piled out of the warm pastry shop onto the chilly street.

Snacking, the group flowed along the sidewalk in the heavy rain. Cars on the streets moved slowly, while pedestrians pushed through at the breadth of their umbrellas to the accompanying white noise of the falling rain.

Chloe strode confidently in a pair of sparkly-silver 10-hole Doc Martens, tight black faux-leather pants, a vintage black and red TSOL t-shirt, and a semi-transparent graphene trench-coat that billowed behind like dark smoke as they walked.

Max went with dark floral high-top Vans, black tights, a cute miniskirt, and a bright blue sleeveless t-shirt, darkened by an unblinking army of susuwatari. Around her neck, a simple matching blue choker. Her hair was pulled up on each side, twisted into bear ears. She wrapped herself and the others in an invisible river of excited atoms for warmth.

Chloe checked thermal, laughed to herself. _All she needs are glow-bracelets and a lollipop._

And Ariel was right, earlier. About the view from the rooftop of the office. No surprise. This city would always be unique and beautiful to Chloe. A jagged, intermingled skyline of deceptively tall buildings set to all angles, infiltrated by flowing, elegant green spaces, then copy-pasted infinitely out to all horizons. Forty-three million people in a metro area more extensive than the LA basin, but at nearly four times the density.

Chloe had a much better view than the others, but it wasn't one she could share. Even so, it wasn't nearly as complete as she'd like. She didn't expect trouble, but still had to field ten times the number of mobile drones to give her the same kind of overview she could usually get in a small, topologically simple region like Las Vegas.

Tokyo was massive, sprawling, with far too many nooks and crannies and outright blind-spots for that kind of comprehensive picture. It was a wave-of-sight capture problem, common to dense, vertical, urban canyon-scapes. Like every hub where they had a presence, they littered the city with their meshed light-field sensors. But most were concentrated within a few miles of their office.

And it wasn't nearly good enough for comfort.

As a test, Chloe had quietly purchased almost fifty specialty printing companies around Japan before the holidays. The common link was their long-term contracts to provide local governments with prefecture seals for vehicle license plates - small printed stickers that covered license plate mounting bolts for the life of each vehicle. Long game. The new substrate wouldn't roll into production for another month. But at nearly five million new cars registered in Japan each year, distribution would scale quickly. And scatter the invisible, advanced mobile sensors across the country, hopefully filling in some of the gaps.

If the results were what she hoped, they'd scale similar approaches in other countries where it made sense, as well as horizontally to other everyday objects, coffee cups, fabrics, whatever. Infiltrate the supply chains. Anything could pull innocuous double-duty, contributing to the big picture, ambiently powered by light, pressure, small differences in temperature, body heat or kinetics, movement through wireless fields, or…anything.

Tokyo was the most extreme case she had to contend with. If they could solve it here, it would work anywhere they needed a presence.

Growing net of sensors above. Smart dust in the wind. Expanding core interconnections below. All part of that purposefully evolving system of global awareness.

Meanwhile, a dozen hummingbirds patrolled in a five-mile dome, with thousands of small flying insect-bots tracking with them, keeping pace a few hundred yards on all sides of their group. In windows, down alleys, up rooftops, into sewer grates. Leaping ahead, flying behind. Walking above. Chloe layered in the flat optical images of public and private camera systems where she could. Along with radio penetrations, reflections. Every little bit helped.

While blind to much of the city, she saw and heard nearly everything in the quarter-mile bubble around them. Filtered most of it out. Her attention lingered on the interesting bits, in her own internal time. Max, holding her hand, seen from every possible angle. Every raindrop that threatened their group. Noted the still-wet alien-head graffiti on the dented, dirty trash bin outside the shop down the alley. Along with the still-visible heat of the tagger's footsteps fading down the street. She and Max were mid-arm-swing, nearly motionless as she reversed the data, replayed the hooded figure, the practiced flow of the spray nozzle. Noted the number he used as a signature, curious, she looked up a few hundred sites, posts and articles covering the vibrant Tokyo graffiti scene. Remembered that stealthy rush from younger days. _Good times. Carry on, artful taggers._

Back to real-time. Scanned. John and Trace walked on their own ahead, sharing a lemon tart and whispers. Chloe touched every car on the elevated freeway above the street, slowed perception again as one passed. Enjoyed the beauty of the tail lights through the rooster-tails rising behind each wheel. Fluid suspended vertically, surface tension rendering sheets, droplets, like galactic walls, forever falling splashing descending to join dark water flowing underground toward the deepest sea.

The back and forth banter between friends, mostly unaware of her side-processed vigilance. Civilian conversations all around, radio broadcasts, ridiculous density of mobile phones, echoes, wifi. Everything unfolding to her perception at high detail and in super slow motion. A digital analog to Sophie's meat-based connections to the world. Chloe didn't doubt that Soph was passively watching and listening through her own ad-hoc network of other people for signs of trouble too.

 _On the one hand, it makes perfect sense for us to take these precautions, to strive for full situational awareness. On the other…_

Max gave her a playful squeeze and pull. A cream-puff infused kiss on her cheek. "Them's the rules, right, Chlo?" Like magic and bubbles.

…their vigilance was entirely redundant. Unnecessary. When Max could unwrite anything anyone could do to them, why bother with any of it? That approach, dependence, left everything on Max's shoulders. She carried enough. _Wait…that she asked me something. Shit._ Chloe ran an imperceptible high-speed playback of the last minute of conversation around her. Most recent question was about sticking to the outcome of the bet from a few weeks ago. _Got it._ Chloe descended to a more human clock speed. Transition felt more and more like stepping from a screaming jet into frozen molasses. She gave a head nod to Hector without missing a conversational beat. "You're not skatin' outta this one, loser! Ponies. That was the deal. You bet against the superstar - now you can suuuck iiiiit." She laughed with a few others. "Prepare - for your Song of Shaaaaaame!"

Ahead, Hector turned in a full circle, put up his hands. "I accepted the consequences, and my defeat, gracefully. You could try to do the same with your victory." Head tilted, smiling, he turned back.

John, from up front, "Ouch. Shots fired…"

"Yes, well, you won't be alone up there," said Ari. "Ignorance of the extent of Chloe's righteous in-the-moment badassery doesn't protect me from sharing those consequences."

Hector threw a smile over his shoulder at her. "Don't worry, Ar. I have a plan. We're gonna bring the house down."

"Oh, this oughtta be good," dropped Ty, under his breath.

"Where in the Seven Hells are we going again?" asked Parker. "I appreciate the second sugar-stop, but are we to remain but dodgy foreign wanderers? Should I consult a map for guidance? Search out a singing booth, or, what are we doing now?"

Chloe poked at him. "We're re-enacting the primary means of motation comfortably used for many thousands of years by our most ancient of respected ancestors, the Meanderthals."

Max groaned, fake-pulled-away.

Sophie giggled quietly to herself, "I was sure we were sauntering?"

Tracey turned, asked Soph, "Where does the 'mosey' fit into any of this?"

Sophie shrugged, smiling.

Chloe continued, "What are you, afraid of a little outdoor walk Parker?"

"Not as such. I'll admit I'm growing somewhat weary of colliding with oncoming residents inexplicably decked out in house medical garb, most of who seem as though they at least have some rudimentary command over where they're going. Can't say the same for us."

Chloe took pity, threw a holo out front, composite 3-d wireframe view of their surroundings, with a dot for them, one for their destination, and a dog-leg blinky-path linking them. "Roppongi Hills. Shibuya. Questions?"

"Scale?"

"Another mile."

"Another? Are we not even half? It's raining!"

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Dude - oh my god, you're so full of freakin' whinge today. Has a single drop hit you?"

"Well, no, which is…odd, now that you mention…wait…is that you?!" He held out his hand. Rain fell hard around them, but within a few feet of their circle, empty air. "How are you doing that, exactly?"

Chloe blew on her nails, their colors changing in waves. "Pure talent." That got another chuckle from the group. "It's only another mile. You can do it. I know we're outside, in the real world and shit, but…I, for one, choose to believe in you." Chloe smiled, looked away, shaking her head. She secretly liked Parker, but he made himself such an easy target.

Parker squinted. "You know, if you weren't my superior in…well.. _literally_ every way imaginable I suppose, I'd tell you to get stuffed. But…that first part." He gave a small chuckle at his attempt.

Chloe gave a toss. "Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, fuzzball."

Incredulous, all he could manage was a weak, "Really?"

Max chimed in, "Does that make me Leia in this specific walking configuration?"

Chloe whispered, aside, "Probably not?"

Max made a face. "Poop."

Sophie glanced back over her shoulder eyebrows raised. "Language."

Parker jumped in, pointed excitedly. "Wait, I get that reference!"

Chloe heard their collective laughter through cameras a quarter-mile away.

* * *

 **James** clambered on.

The path returned to shoulder-width, followed the curve of the rock face. The grade increased. His boot found the edge of a shallow stair-cut, tripping his body forward. He caught himself with outstretched arms and the sound of a cold, wet 'squish'. Held there as the wind pushed at him. His heart slowed once again. Bits of ice and snow raced across the beam of his headlamp, gave the illusion of turning, of violent movement in his stillness. Disorienting.

He was aware of his body. Trusted his inner ear. The unmoving rock in his hands, where he caught himself mid-fall. Gravity. Down. That was solid - the stone of the world. The sideways pull of snow, the pale motions of light and flurries - those were the illusions, ghosts that would take him off course to join them, if he followed.

Closed his eyes. The world…back in balance.

He'd always found those first few minutes of morning meditation helpful. A structured transition from sleep to wakefulness. Since school. A common, routine beginning to the variable chaos of each new day. But in diving so deeply to evade her telepaths, that artifact of his history melded with Their training to produce in him echoes of something entirely unexpected. Old memories.

Memories which led him here.

His thoughts drifted like the flurries. Landed near a more recent version of himself.

It was an exciting challenge. The Device. Those last eighteen months of effort. To see beyond the mistakes of his father and the limitations of his time. To make it work. To make his mark. Maybe show Them why they ought to respect him. No one lesser had an opinion he could find meaning in.

He picked himself up. Continued on, as much by feel as by light.

Now that he was free, out on his own, could think openly without eavesdroppers, he discovered he felt differently about a great many things. Different than he had before his captivity, at any rate. Far too much energy wasted chasing unimportant pursuits. And a few harmful ones. Chasing, why? Why did any of it matter to him? What was the purpose, or the result, of anyone's approval? Conflating cause and effect? Something else? Not for the reflections in his reputation or his father or the press or partners or any of the rest. But why did any of it matter to him? Personally?

It didn't. That was his lesson. And perhaps, her gift. A more subtle comment on the nature of his release.

Back to himself, there was only the trail. The tearing chill wind. The ice. And his mind, alone in the night. He relished the raw simplicity of the moment. Couldn't recall feeling anything quite so real or meaningful as this in any of what drove him before.

Not after his time there, in that - place.

Sustained low-gravity…once gone, once he processed, it was evident that it couldn't have been Earth. That alone changed _everything_. Set a different perspective on where MCCP was in relation. And opened far more questions than he could expect answers for. An extreme sort of intelligence failure, but it wasn't his fault that night went the way it had.

Winning was never an outcome that was open to him.

They were…no… _he_ …was objectively outmatched.

He could accept that. Honor her win.

She proved she was worthy.

* * *

 **Max** offered Chloe the last bite of her cream puff. Popped it in her mouth when Chloe declined with a shake of her head. _So good. So flakey! OMG. Melting._

Tracey and Ty were talking about something as they all walked, Hector and John clowned around, but Max wasn't paying super-close attention. The light softened everything under the cloud cover and rain. A little like that greenish cast she used to like in Seattle on rainy winter days. Wished she'd brought a real camera. Settled for her phone. She let go of Chloe's hand as Ariel pointed them off the main street and into a long, narrow alleyway.

Noodle shops with ramshackle signs, dry cleaners, and other stores nested at street level between the tall buildings. Harsh white fluorescents. White cubes, window coolers, sprouted like mushrooms from every floor. No two buildings were alike, with color and tile and their different shapes reaching high up into the clouds. A Range Rover parked randomly in a corner space, a painted remnant notch where two small alleys intersected. Two wet, silver scooters leaned against a wall in a gap behind it.

Max broke away from the group. Wanted a shot of the scooter friends huddled together in the rain. Each had giant sticky-eyes looking out at her from the front fairings. She framed, took a few snaps, tight, backed up, rotated her phone, took another few with the giant purple graffiti bubble-monster in the background.

Chloe paused, waited, called out, "That one was done by a visiting crew up from South Korea six months ago."

Max snapped another shot, rejoined the group. Flipped through, saved to her camera roll. "Cute monster." Showed it to Chloe.

Chloe gave her a brief history of the subculture of local street art, artists, crews, pointing out examples along their path as they walked. Gesturing to a large piece with a roughly sprayed wolf, she gave her a rundown on the international travels of the crew that painted it. Threw up a few holos of similar pieces they'd done in Moscow, Sao Paulo. The tags and styles were a language all on their own, it seemed. More of the rich, artistic tapestry of parallel cultures, co-layered over urban spaces.

Ahead, Ariel interrupted. "This is the spot, guys. We're here."

They piled up.

"Where's here? This blank door?" asked Parker.

"Yep. Secret squirrel. Come on. Believe it or not, this place is big inside and kinda famous." Ariel knocked twice at the door. Another small group of patrons approached from an adjacent alley.

A chubby, bespectacled doorman in a flamboyant, leopard-patterned suit-coat threw open the door, sized up both groups, fake-scowled, then invited them in with an exaggerated gesture and a broad smile.

Dimly lit, unadorned, the hallway was long and narrow. They had to walk single-file, and even then, it was tight. At the far end, hanging wires, another door, leading to another hallway. Wider and shorter, wallpapered with crushed velvet and framed posters of various singers on stage. A turn. Club lighting took over as bass leaked through the walls. Black-lights and neons, excited scripting mixed with decorative English words. Max read the signs as they went. Caught up to Ariel.

"Wait - this is like a real live show?"

Ari smiled. "Yep. House band members are all pros - touring and studio musicians - and some of the regular singers are crazy good. Don't get me wrong, the themed booth places can be super fun, but this is world class karaoke right here. More expensive, but…company card. Don't tell?"

Max chuckled. "How'd you find it?"

"Internet," she confessed. "Sophie asked for help finding a place. I asked around online for something special. This seemed right. Well, and there's that one other one with a Family Guy theme, but it's small, and I wasn't sure we'd all fit inside."

"It's—"

"What's the name?" Chloe interrupted from the window booth. "What are they under? Tried the obvious, but no hits."

"Sorry - s'cuse me." Ari scooted past Max to join Chloe.

Tickets sorted, wristbands on, drink chips pocketed, they all headed in. Chloe waited by the door for Max before walking in with her. The others quickly disappeared ahead, diffused into the crowd.

Max wasn't entirely prepared for what was beyond - it wasn't a bar at all - it was more like a small concert venue. Ceiling was as high as a theater, probably a thousand-plus people inside already, warm, jostling, noisy. At least half that number were crushed onto the standing-room-only dance floor, more at tables and booths around the periphery, and the multi-story ring of balconies upstairs. Bars on all sides, excepting the stage.

Max stalled, slowed, but Chloe kept going, had her hand, pulled her forward. Max skipped to catch up.

On the legit, concert-sized stage, the full band. Two drummers, a bass player, three guitarists, two keyboard players with towering banks of synths and blinky lights, and another on what looked like a laptop and four turntables to the side. Amps, mics on stands, stacks of speakers, lights, more speakers wall mounted everywhere… The auditorium hummed with energy.

"What the…"

Behind the stage, a gigantic LED wall. Synchronized color panels wrapped behind all of the bars, adding their glow to stage and crowd lights, fog machines and lasers. The LED wall changed from color waves to a live shakey-zoom video of the drummer's face. Camera operator was somewhere upstairs in the back.

Max felt a brief pang. Huddled up with Chloe. A nervous laugh, "Shit. What did we get ourselves into here?"

Chloe saw the setup through a completely different set of eyes. Laughing, excited, "Aw _man!_ I know, right? Holy _shit!_ Is this the most awesome motherfuckin' thing you've ever seen in your _life?_ " Chloe let go, twirled.

Max was happy for Chloe, and her enthusiasm was _almost_ contagious, but she re-gripped her hand a little more tightly. "It's a _lot_ of people."

"I know! And we're gonna _melt their goddamn faces off!_ " Chloe ended with a jump and a yell over the crowd. "Woooo!"

 _Shit._ "Well, it's a lot of people. We don't all get a 'chance' to sing, right? Right?"

Chloe turned. "What? No - Ari scored us performer tickets, dude. Limited number. Guarantees us at least one song each. Plus encores if the audience digs us. Most of the crowd are here for the show, not to sing. She said it gets pretty insane."

Quietly. "Sigh." Louder, "Wait - it's the middle of the damn day. Who are all these people? Why are they even here?"

Chloe laughed, joyful. "Come on nerd! _It's Japan_ \- we've got our numbers and a big booth upstairs. Everyone's up - we can get food and drink and pick our songs up there."

Chloe pulled her toward the stairs.

Max, trailing at arm's length, gave her best Tina Belcher scowl. _"uuuuuuuuuuuuh."_

* * *

 **Michaels** figured they arrived at a good time. Intermission of some sort. Gave them a chance to work their way up to the narrow balcony, pile into their private, U-shaped lounge, and maybe order some solids and liquids while they could still hear each other.

They had a good view of the stage, but monitors graced every wall and pillar with live video as well. He counted twelve steps per half landing, four exits, ten house security guys. From their balcony, they had excellent visibility but only limited cover. Blind spot directly below them. A few mirrors would give hints if they leaned out far enough. Crowd was mostly Japanese, late teens to mid-thirties, two to one ratio of male to female. No gang tattoos that he could see. Nobody printing. He remained relaxed.

"…I don't see how that could possibly be true! The angle required alone…" Tracey laughed easily, gossiping with Parker about some British pop-star tabloid scandal or another.

John could be outgoing, in an easy-going sort of way. But in social situations, Trace was usually next level. Like a multitasking social savant. Artifacts of her upbringing and career choices, probably. While recommending drinks, and in the midst of carrying on multiple simultaneous conversations, she still thought to acknowledge him with a backward touch, without looking away from the others, without breaking stride. A simple, tactile communication, all their own. Something closer to her natural ground-state, when it was just them, with no donors to schmooze or friends or guests to charm or entertain.

A sharp nudge from his left brought him back. Chloe passed him the brightly colored menu tablet.

Ty, not yet seated, gave him an invisible nod. Shorthand. Confirming low alert state. Meant he'd take watch, and that John was free to imbibe tonight.

John returned thanks with similar subtlety, tapped the picture of what he hoped was a beer before passing it on to Trace. Adjusted his coat, fought the strong instinct to loosen his collar.

He felt overdressed for their afternoon out, but Tracey led the morning with something about what constituted proper attire for Valentine's day in Tokyo, and the general collapse of social norms, and probably civilization, once everyone gave up entirely to wear pyjamas in public on the daily.

Followed by a hasty, final run-through of their routine. She had them practicing in the living room for weeks. He imagined, in whatever version of reality existed where they'd never crossed paths, he'd have spent the morning in water, or perhaps shooting friends in the face online, or maybe heading out on a Sunday play-date with his latest overnight casual.

Singing and dancing in his living room wouldn't have ever been on his radar independently. She was unexpected. Delightful. Infuriating. Ridiculous. But…he picked this reality. He'd fight for it.

Even if the final result was a too-snug collar. As with many life-trials, training helped. Could go hours without acknowledging an active itch. Didn't bug him any less, but that was the discipline.

Tracey, turned, whispering, "Don't be nervous - we'll do great - just remember your hopscotch shuffle in the third chorus?"

John whispered back, "I wasn't nervous, but now that you made me think about it…"

She smacked him playfully, dismissively. Leaned back into him, returned to her other conversations.

To his other side, Max & Chloe were busy being Max & Chloe.

Past them, Hector and Ariel appeared to huddle, conspiring over something, probably relating to their performance. No idea what Hector had in his back pocket, but it would probably be amusing.

Ty finally settled in on the other side of Sophie as house-lights dimmed and stage-lights came up.

An MC took the spotlight. John didn't understand the words, but by context, he introduced the next participant. John took in the stage, the layout, visualized what he'd see when they were up there looking out. The locations of the nearest cover. Remembered his shuffle in the third chorus…

* * *

 **Sophie** rode the joy of the crowd as the acts kicked off. They didn't sing aloud or make noise out of respect for the performers, but many waved their glow sticks, mirroring the patterns of the group on stage.

Planted, legs wide, the lead performer voiced a falsetto version of a current female idol song while performing an intricate, spinning, contortional glow-stick dance with his upper body. Four friends on the stage with him matched his every choreographed expression. They were fast - almost too quick to follow. The spinning trails of glowing lights danced across video panels around the room. Dynamic, glow-stick fires ringed the audience. Everyone knew the words to the song, even if they only sang in their heads.

Set the bar pretty high.

Drinks and food arrived during the next act. Calamari, assorted nigiri, and platters of karaage, kushiage, and grilled squid. Beers and mixed drinks all around, while Sophie and Tyrell had matching diet Cokes.

The first of their numbers lit up lotto-style, to the right of the stage. A signal for the holder to head down for the next place in line.

First from their tribe was Ari. She wasn't so much 'enthusiastic' as she was anxious to get it out of the way so she could chill. When it was her time, she conferred briefly with the band, who gave instructions to the crew. Lights dimmed.

Sophie snacked on edamame.

A few twangs from a lonely guitar and Ari took two long, lazy twirls across the stage, coming to a hiding place behind the lead guitarist. Fingers over his shoulders, eyes peeking out, she voiced her first few lines.

"Are you insane like me…"

"…been in pain like me…"

A pirouette stage right, ending behind one of the keyboardists. Like a sort of maudlin, shy flirtation with the audience, daring the spotlight to find her.

Eyes down, by turns open and withdrawn, she played like that through the song, using the band as cover, and part of her interpretation.

For the chorus, she emerged from behind, raging, flailing, falling, rolling, coming to rest, finally skittering backward to a hiding spot under the turntables, pushed into a corner as if under threat, eyes wide, arms covering her head for the next verse.

Then out from under, behind the musicians, sultry, disjointed, finally falling once again.

Sophie had more insight than most, and even she was surprised by Ariel's unexpectedly raw and vulnerable performance. The others, without specific context, didn't see it.

Alone in the spotlight, exposed, she finished the final verses in Japanese, voice slowing, growing smaller as she retreated, her presence diminishing into the background. She pushed through the side stage curtain in silence, leaving the spotlight empty at the end, as though she was never there. Notes faded.

The audience responded with clapping and cheers.

She gave them an honest performance.

As Ariel made her way back to the balcony, Sophie felt her relief. Caught up in the adrenaline fade from her time on stage, a little sweaty, but done. Next act was already in play. Her booth-mates greeted her with nods and claps, while Hector held out for a casual fist-bump as she reclaimed her seat.

She sipped at a straw.

"So…that was uh…intense?" offered Parker, leaning.

Ari laughed it off. "Sometimes the muse grabs you."

Sophie knew better, but it was all healthy.

"…and sometimes, you grab the muse," joked Chloe. "Inappropriately, of course."

"As one does…" Tracey crossed her legs, chin to hand. Sipped.

 _Nicely done_ , Sophie thought privately to her, slightly raising her diet Coke in a toast.

 _Thanks - it was okay? Wasn't too much or anything? Not a hundred percent sure what happened up there. Was winging it and sorta let go._

 _Their applause was genuine._

Ari felt relieved. _Okay. Cool. And now I think I'll finish this drink in about two gulps and get another. Haha._

Sophie smiled. _You still have one more._

 _Oh shit. That's right. Yeah, that's…meh - that'll be super fun though. I won't be alone._

Sophie smiled. _Don't tell me. I'm trying to be surprised._

 _You got it. And…thanks._ Ari took a sip, slid back all the way. Quick, furtive glances around the booth before following their attention forward to the stage.

Sophie returned her attention through the audience below.

* * *

 **Max** noticed their quick touch out of the corner of her eye. It was dark, but she was pretty sure she saw what she saw. Leaned close, whispered to Chloe, "Uh, how long has _that_ been going on?"

Chloe cracked a half-smile, whispered back, "Where you been? Old news, babe."

Max gave a sly smile. "Huh. I mean, it's cool, I just didn't see it. And…you didn't tell me."

Chloe downed a shot of sake. "They've been on the DL. I assumed you—"

"No. Not at all. I can totally see it now though." Max stole a glance. "They're…so…cute."

Sophie might have smiled. Max couldn't tell in the light.

 _Shit - sorry. Didn't mean to…you know. Sorry - carry on,_ Max thought quickly, quietly to herself, in case Soph was listening or aware.

No reaction. Ty remained oblivious beside her.

Chloe leaned in again. "Hey - not to change subjects, but they're gonna call my number in two songs. I wanna mingle with the crowd down there, build some energy before I'm up. I know you'd probably rather—"

"Go. I'm good. I'll be here, safe in the many arms of all this yummy calamari." Max pushed her.

"I see how it is. Save my seat?" Chloe stood, hesitated.

Max fake-scowled. "I don't think so. Without you here, I'll probably get pretty lonely. Just give it away to the first cute girl who wanders by…"

Chloe walked backward, gave Max a majestic double-bird. "Asshole." Stepped, turned, headed downstairs through the crowd with a smile.

Max called out after her, "Have fun. Break a leg! Go Chloe!"

John looked around, joined with a playfully half-hearted "Woo?"

"Oh, is she up?" asked Parker.

"Two more songs," said Max, popping another calamari in her mouth.

She caught sight of Chloe briefly, down in the crowd, but lost her. _Hide and seek all over again._ Max found the nearest security camera, stuck her tongue out at it. The red light blinked twice. _Always on the move, young Price. And always keeping your eyes out._

After another ten minutes, it was Chloe's turn on stage.

John and Trace stood up at the railing.

Max leaned forward, eyes on stage. _I love this part._

House lights dimmed, darkened. A chorus of "Woo, Chloe!", "Go!" from Trace and Ariel.

The guitar drone cut through the room, all energetic static and crunch. Held the note, layered feedback. The band, lit from above, supplied the repeating wind-up vocal chant. "Black sheep, come home…"

Max bit her lip. _Ow!_ Too hard.

Blue and white lights spiraled onto Chloe. Her head was down, mic at her side, with her other hand on the top of the empty mic stand, leaning out at an angle. The cymbal wash escalated. The guitar crackled with energy. Chloe tapped her boot. Nodded her head to the same tempo as the band wound up.

In the crowd, all varieties of glow-sticks went into the air, spun around in lazy circles. They knew the song.

Chloe moved in time as the noisy intro rose in volume and complexity. On the first kick drum and rhythm guitar note, she was let loose to bounce around.

Sensual, playing, Chloe hugged the mic with both hands. She launched into the intro verse, breathing the first few lines in a perfect recreation. Three headbangs. Hair a mess. Her eyes met Max's. This was for her.

"…our common goal was waiting for the world to end…"

Hair flipping, head bobbing, smile turned to pout, Chloe scanned the room, looking left and right as she sang.

"…shape shift and trick the past again…"

When she cut into the chorus, it was like everything went liquid. She jumped, danced free. The room exploded into rhythmic light and color and energy and choreographed lasers and animations of what were clearly the 8-bit cartoon Adventures of Max and Chloe and friends, complete with figures and hearts and flowers and rainbows and fun monsters. A little story, rendered in digital retro-graphics, running around the room like a giant side-scroller.

Max overheard John laughing, "…and that was the day Chloe Price pulled Tokyo straight into the Matrix…"

 _She's so right up there._

 _In another, less fucked up, world, this could have been her real life._

 _Always said she'd make a badass rock star._

Chloe danced, swayed on the stage, playing to, and engaging, the crowd. Max wobbled in her seat in a vaguely dancey fashion, finally standing to wobble in place at the railing. Looked at the security camera again, mouthed, "Big stupid goof. Love you." Crinkled her nose. Red light blinked.

By the time Chloe finished out the song, the 2-d cartoon figures had left the screens behind to move through open air as room-filling holograms. The crowd pretty much lost their minds, with wild cheers for the unexpected VFX show. For Max, it was all a flustery mix of Chloe appreciation.

 _I would have been a good groupie, I think. I'm not sure what they do, exactly. Guess I could look it up online. But you know. The thought is there._

Chloe lingered on stage, after, blowing kisses to the crowd, taking bows, gesturing a 'give it up for the band', until she was over-dramatically shooed away by the MC. She jumped back on stage, the crowd cheered, the MC took two big steps toward her, stomped, and she jumped off, onto the stairs, looked away innocently. He stopped. Turned. She raised a foot, edging toward the stage. He raised his, edging closer to her. They did this little impromptu back-and-forth dance, to the delight of the crowd, until Chloe finally gave a deep bow to the audience, blended into them.

"She's a natural," said Tracey, over her shoulder.

"That's one way to put it, yes," laughed Max. "She's definitely a something. But please don't say anything? She's gonna be impossible to live with for the next three days as it is…"

Parker asked, "Are you nervous now? About how you're going to top that?"

She pretended not to hear him.

Chloe rejoined minutes later, crashing back into the booth next to Max. "Okay, that was super fucking fun! Let's buy this place. Can I have my allowance?"

"Ham." Max rolled her eyes.

"Hey! You know you loved it." Energized, Chloe grabbed her, gave her a big kiss below her ear.

Max batted her eyelashes. "Guilty. And…yeah, you were pretty hot up there, not gonna lie. Rockstar wife."

Chloe sat back, all smug and swagger. "Just don't get jealous of my relationship with the audience and we'll be fine. They're my people. But I'm still going home with you after all. Besides, you'll have your chance with them."

A local couple was on stage, belting out a passable show tune.

Max made a face. "Uh huh."

* * *

 **Chloe** threw back another shot of sake. Simulated some of the old familiar effects of alcohol on her system. She kicked back in the booth, legs stretched out on a small table. Max cuddled next to her. They were surrounded by friends. Warm and happy.

A handful of other singers gave their all before it was time for Hector and Ariel to go up and sing what Chloe dubbed their 'loser-song-of-suck-ass-shame'.

They took a minute to set up. Hector conferred with the band, handed them sheet music. Borrowed a stool to sit on, as well as an acoustic guitar. Adjusted the strap, ducked under it. Ari took up a mic-stand behind his left shoulder. Lowered it to the proper height. Hands behind her back, her presence over-earnest.

Chloe cupped her hand, heckled, "OMG Ponies! Wooooooooo!"

Max smacked at her.

From others,

"Go, Hector!"

"We love you guys!"

"Ow!"

Silence from the crowd.

Hector waved once to acknowledge them, graciously, his expression serious. Pushed hair behind his left ear. Gently strummed a few bars - setting the right tempo for his dual streams, giving the band something to follow.

Drums and bass picked up, played along. A simple, soft spotlight graced the duo.

Ty leaned out, said, "Now this doesn't sound anything like the MLP theme."

"The what?" asked John, hiding a smile.

"The…youtube, man. Look it up. It's a kid's show - thought that's what they signed up for?"

Chloe recognized the tune. Chuckled. "Well, technically, we said it had to be about _ponies_. But we didn't specify…"

Sophie heard it too. "Clever boy."

John kicked back, hands behind his head. "Think you guys got played…"

On stage, Hector, voice cracking, heavy with emotion, sang out with a country-twang, "Up in horsie heaven, here's the thing…"

Ty leaned, elbows on the railing, shook his head. "Fuckin' Hector, man…"

Ari came in on harmonies but stayed background.

Curious, Tracey asked, "This is from…?"

Voice low, John explained, "Yeah. It's a song from that show Parks and Rec. It's streaming. There was a recurring arc with a tiny horse, and…one dude who didn't get the town's love was all about…"

Hector and Ari belted out, "Byyyyye Byyye Little Sebastiaaaaan…"

A few members of the audience waved their glow sticks back and forth overhead.

John continued, "And then he died, and…and there was like this big funeral…and one of the characters' bands, the guy from Guardians of the Galaxy, MouseRat, wrote this song…"

"Wait - who? MouseRat?" Puzzled.

"Yeah - MouseRat. What?"

She took out her phone, as though she was going to look it up. "Who was that? I don't remember a MouseRat from Guardians of the Galaxy?"

John shook his head, pushed down her phone. "No, it's…sorry - one of the characters of the show - who was in the movie - had a band on the show called— "

"Oh. Okay. That's quite confusing, the way you explained it," Tracey admonished.

Hector, near tears, "You're 5,000 candles iiiiin the wind…"

Ari leaned in, gently touched Hector's shoulder, as though consoling him.

Max whispered to Chloe, "Please please please tell me you're recording this?"

"Duh."

Trace shook her head. "I don't get it. I'm listening, and these words don't make any sense."

John patted her back. "That's kind of the joke…"

"But…ah."

"Oh yeah, Chris Pratt. That's his name," John remembered

Tracey made a face. "Well, you could have started there. I know who Chris Pratt is. I'm English, not Martian."

Ariel yelled out, "Everybody sing it now!"

Max and Parker stood, joined Ty at the railing again, started singing it with them. They swayed in time with the waves of the glow stick ocean below, bumping Ty between them. By the third chorus, tradition was in tatters, and most of the audience below was singing along.

Chloe had to give them props.

They made a moment.

* * *

 **Max** ordered another fizzy fruit-water. They'd been through a second round of snacks, and four or five rounds of beverages. Glasses clustered on the tables like small cities.

"Last eel?" Chloe asked.

Max yawned. "You're a last eel. Hehe. No, I'm eeled out. Take it. It's eel yours."

"Booo." Chloe scratched the back of Max's head. "Sleepypants already? You're so cute." She reached for the last piece of unagi. Popped it in her mouth.

Max stifled another yawn. "Nope. I'm good. It's only ten at home. I'm just full and snuggly and warm. That's my problem." She tucked one leg under her, leaned back into Chloe.

"Don't get too comfy, yet. You're up in 20. And somebody's gotta drive everyone home later." Chloe hummed low notes into the back of her head, jawbone to skull.

Max's vision vibrated all wonky. "That feels weird."

Everyone else from their group had their stage time already. Almost everyone.

John and Trace did a jaunty, choreographed song and dance to Oh Wonder's 'Ultralife'. Tracey mentioned that she liked their first album, so Chloe shot her files of their entire future catalog a month ago. The song Trace and John did wouldn't technically be written or released for another year, so Chloe made sure no recordings of their performance survived to threaten that aspect of the timeline. Said she kept one for herself, of course. Mostly for messing with John later. Tracey was the driver of this little dance number, but John played along, kept up surprisingly well.

Parker performed a fierce, stunning rendition of Rihanna's "Only girl in the world." Totally made it work. _Hard to go wrong with RiRi, though._

And John, Ty, and Chloe joined forces on stage for a rousing and energetic version of some song or another by Linkin Park, maybe? Max was pretty sure anyway. Didn't know them well enough to tell which song or anything. But it turned out, Ty had a pretty good shouty-voice.

A waiter brought Max her fizzy water as Sophie and Hector got up to walk downstairs. Max took a sip. _Can't fall asleep yet._ _Air? Yeps._ She turned her head, whispered, "Hey Chlo. Imma step outside. Back in a few?"

Chloe, voicing concern, "Everything okay? You know you don't have to go up if you're not feeling it. Sophie's not singing either. It's no big deal."

Max smiled. Shook her head. "Guess I sounded way sadder than I intended just now. No, you know me. My inner introvert folding her wings. I'll be fine once I'm up there. Need to wake myself up though. Plus, maybe some butterflies, I guess."

Chloe nodded. "Cute. I'll save your seat. Come back to me, dahling."

"Always. BRB." Max kissed her before leaving.

She really was sleepy and full and all that. But it was also a lot of people and lot of noise for hours, and she wanted to chill for a few without a lot of people around. Stretch maybe. Looking forward to being alone with Chloe for three whole days though. Just the two of them.

She didn't feel like making the analog push through the warm crowd to get to the narrow, twisting hallway outside. Found a corner, out of sight, by the top of the staircase, folded to just outside the front door, out in the alleyway.

A sea of cold air hit her. Refreshing. Like walking into the freezer section of the grocery store on a hot summer day. Least for a few minutes, until it started to penetrate. As she shivered, warmed the air around her, the doorman let Sophie and Hector out.

"You should talk to her…" Sophie trailed off.

Max folded her arms. "Beat you guys." Stuck out her tongue.

Sophie continued toward her. "Hello, Max. We thought we might find you out here."

"You left first."

"You were looking a little pensive in there," Hector threw his arm around her shoulder. "Come on. Under cover, children." He walked them both around the corner, under a shop awning, out of the downpour.

Max extended her blanket of warmth around the two of them as well. "That sounds like a detective novel. You guys did awesome up there. It's been a fun night!"

"Thanks. Told you I had a plan."

"Well played. In more ways than one, then." Max leaned up against the wall, one foot back, watching the rain come down. "How long has it been since you two have had a chance to hang out?"

Hector shrugged. "We email a lot."

Sophie punched his arm.

He laughed. "Ow. See? This is why we don't hang out. You're mean as a snake."

"I'll remember that comment next time you forget coffee." Sophie turned her attention to Max. Put her hand on her shoulder. "Do you have a moment? Or would you prefer we leave you to some quiet?"

Max put her hand over Sophie's. "I can make quiet time whenever I want. We don't get to hang out nearly as often. What's up your noggins?"

"That was going to be my question for you." Sophie leaned, took a spot to the right of Max. "Different words. It's been a few months. So much has happened."

Max nodded. "Obvious answer is obvious. Is it time already? I know you guys worry about me."

Hector bumped her playfully from the left. "For. Never about."

All three leaned, their backs against the tiled wall, watching the rain fall from a darkening sky. A street lamp burst to life across the alley, lighting new drops from behind.

"Thanks, guys. It always helps me feel better. Fair warning, it's prolly kinda messy in there today," Max apologized. "Haven't cleaned my room. I mean, you guys know what it's been like."

Sophie reassured. "Not messy. Only more lifetimes than most; you and Chloe both. More accumulation, perhaps, with more years? More drama of the world than most will ever see." Sophie linked arms with her. "And yes, we do know what's been happening. I've personally run out of adjectives. But more important is how it has all affected you. How have you felt? Have you let her—"

Shifting to Sophie's mind, Max stopped her. _You know I love that you guys do this with me every few months, but I can see where your head is. This is a conversation we've had off and on for as long as we've known each other. Still trying to wear me down?_

Sophie, warm thoughts, _Never. You're in the driver's seat. Always. You know this. It's good that you share with someone, and I'm honored that you choose to do so with Hector and me as often you do. Even if Chloe is the one who deserves it most._

 _Deserves?_ Max closed her eyes, threw her head back. _Do I detect a hint of judgement in your choice of words? You know why I can't._

Hector took her hand. Leaned his head on hers. _Perspective, not judgement; you know better, dude. And you're protecting her. Keeping the timeline clean for Chloe. That's what you usually say. But…huh…there's always something new to see in here. It is more than just that, isn't it?_

 _No, I —_

Sophie, aloud, "What is it, Hector? Why don't you show me what you mean?"

Back in the link, he highlighted the background patterns, shapes, abstractions. Pathways.

Max wasn't sure what any of it meant. It was always just blobs of nonsense to her.

 _Something new. Maybe old. Can't tell. It's just there. A phrase she used. Follow that thread back? A tiny knot. See? Oh. Okay - Max - think back to right before you made your final jump from the far future. What did you say to her? You've thought about it recently. In your goodbye. It's something in your choice of words. We're right here._

Max, eyes closed, squeezed his hand.

With Sophie's guidance, she doubled back through layers of guilt. Through utter helplessness, overwhelming, terrible sadness and loss, to a moment of despair tempered only by that last resort, last-ditch glimmer of hope. The jump.

Haltingly, she gave voice to words last spoken to her other Chloe, hundreds of years from now in her last branch of reality. _It went, '_ _I'm so sorry that all of this, all of us, will be lost for you, Chloe. But I remember everything. I swear I'll make it up to you. So many mistakes, so much trauma we don't have to repeat.'_

Hector squeezed back. _…there. See? It's okay, Max. But those were your own words before you jumped. Did you catch that?_ _ **We.**_ _Trauma_ _ **we**_ _don't have to repeat. It wasn't only about Chloe then, was it? You made an intentional decision to be more expansive._

Max felt sick. She didn't prepare for this. Should have pushed off. _Oh man. My last decision was fizzy fruit drink or plain water. Sorry guys, was just out for air. You caught me off guard is all… Uh…_

Sophie breathed alongside her. A calm. _Take your time. It's not an ambush. But it's not always best to prepare yourself._

 _Sometimes, off guard is the only way to get past the guards,_ Hector added with a wry smile.

Max rolled her closed eyes. _I hate you. Jerkface._

He gave her another bump. _I feel like we're close to something. Keep going. If you can. What were you thinking? Find it._

She slumped. _I mean, obviously, no, I didn't want to go. In the end. I must have been there for weeks, frozen in that stupid perma-death rewind moment. Before reaching the break-point where I couldn't see any other way. Couldn't go forward, backward felt futile and just plain cruel. I wanted to join her. I hated myself - it felt like giving up. I couldn't go back to her. She'd see it in me. Something coming. But saying goodbye from the static was the only way I was able to let go. Made the decision to jump back far enough to make a difference, to try to make my way to the Chloe waiting on this end. If there was a chance to make it like none of it ever happened, I had to take it. Or make things a little less fucked up. I believed it was all gone. And I left everything. My world. My love…_

Sophie whispered, _You didn't know. And you have made things here better already. That's good, Max - your effect on this world…on all of us is very real._

Max struggled. _I don't know guys. I think it was like, if I could make it so nothing happened, then…maybe it could all be shiny for me too. But… we've gone over this, haven't we?_

Hector, a guiding voice in her head. _Yes, but it's always been more complicated than that, hasn't it? For both of you. Or all four of you, perhaps, from a certain point of view?_

Max kept going. _Yeah. Okay. Fine. And never mind it was all bullshit - but then throw in the outside interference during the jump from those asshole shadow-whatever-motherfuckers. It's messed me up, or at least thrown me off more than I like to admit. First and only time I've jumped into a younger self and retained multiple sets of awareness, memories. I'm linear - it was only a few months of partial overlap, but that…reminder…minute to minute, being the girl I was, the person who existed before any of the really horrible shit happened again. Thinking I was her, with 100% of my awareness, or near enough. I was the youngest possible me again. It stuck with me after. Arcadia was as real and recent as leaving OtherChloe, even though I knew better. It still pulls at me. There's been a sort of 'what would YoungMax think or do' vs. 'What would OlderMax think or do'. Wrong words. Just sounds. It's not like there are two people or anything. You can see it's not…it's just…I'm acutely aware of how simultaneously divergent my reactions to people or events can be at any given moment. From those two perspectives. And it's like, I get to choose who I am, which voice I listen to if they disagree. Or work it out if there are more subtle differences…_

Their thoughts were broken by a couple on a scooter buzzing down the alleyway, exhaust note echoing off the walls.

Sophie leaned into her. Redirected. _Max, some would argue that ability to see things from multiple perspectives, to evaluate and decide in a balanced way, is a desirable trait, and a sure sign of wisdom._

 _I know, Soph. I was pretty convinced I already had that, by my age and experience. But I suppose that's kinda bullshit too. I'm not without doubts. Where do they come from? Am I allowing them, indulging them, too now? Can we afford that distraction? And sometimes, it's like, I know somewhere offscreen, I have every memory from every branch, every false start, every fuckup. Everything I've ever done or will do. All of time. I just can't get there from here. I don't know how. Or if it's even possible… Or why I'd want to. But my linear memory, here, now, what I have access to as a person stuck in the grain of this universe, even that's slippery. Example, whether I choose to leave myself a note, or jump back to change things directly, each time it's a choice I make. About what I keep. A choice to make all the memories and accept the changes those experiences write into my personality. Or leave it to another unseen version of me. Reset. Like, I'm maybe editing not just for Chloe, but for my own personal lifeline experiences and memory as I go too. By choosing to participate directly or punt to another Max, which is just another part of me that I don't retain memory of in the here and now. Maybe…you're right. Maybe I'm not trying to keep things shiny for Chloe alone. Maybe I'm doing it for myself too, without really intending to, or being aware of it. I don't know. Is that bad though? I know there's a lot I'd love to forget. If I could. What do you guys see in there? 'Sides laundry, I mean?_ Max gave a half-hearted chuckle.

Sophie rested her head on Max's shoulder. _It's always been complicated, dear. You have more than twenty-five generations of lifetime in your head. I can see it easily. But what Hector sees is his own - and more necessary to help you. And unfortunately, his view of you has been far less clear. It's the difference between communicating with a mind, which I do, and understanding pain-points in a consciousness, which is what Hector brings. But you also have infinitely more that's hidden even from yourself. I don't know what feeds back where. I don't have the answer. There's no-one like you. And yet._

— _I'm not so different from anyone else?_

 _That's right. In many ways. And maybe it's not such a bad thing, Max. What you do for Chloe. What you do for yourself. I know what your intentions mean for the rest of us, and I'm grateful every day that you are who you've chosen to be. And I do believe that you have chosen the person you are. So whatever you're doing, whatever compromises you make in those lost branches, it seems to be working. But is it healthy for you, long-term? I don't know. I can't know what I can't see. Who you are, the big you - it's maybe not only memories from your personally accessible lifeline. Like you said, somewhere, perhaps there is a cumulative 'you' outside of all of this that sees everything you've seen. Knows everything you'll ever know. And if so, she's also the product of every decision. Indecision. Action. Inaction. Every regret held. Every truth unstated. All the branches explored and erased, every loop you've undone. Everything from here to the end of infinity perhaps even. And maybe whatever else that there ever was or will be that has nothing to do with this universe. But…that's so far beyond anything we can address from our small place in the universe. Whatever is true, I know you worry that there's an unseen place where they all roll up. And that some of that may roll down to you sometimes in unpredictable ways. It's been exhilarating and sometimes scary for you, those sudden feelings or dreams or forward leaps in your capabilities, but…if something does roll down, then you must also see that you have to be contributing to your whole self in the other direction too. Your choices here, who you are. You write yourself._

Sophie stopped. Quietly laughed. _You know, three years ago, I wouldn't have even understood half of what has become standard conversation when we chat with you or Chloe. And there's still so much I don't. You're deceptively similar to the rest of us, but I know that line of thinking does you a great disservice. Chloe too. But, I believe you ultimately have to trust yourself. And if you choose to edit yourself in a way, maybe that's no different from choices other people make every day. We're all the busy products of many things - some we control, some that happen around us, or to us. But you can change circumstances for yourself to be more favorable in ways that are unimaginable for the rest of us. As a percentage, far more is in your control than simply happens around you. Max Caulfield is not an accidental person. You get to shape yourself through far more active and intentional means than most of us. That's a great privilege, and a great burden for you, I know. With such power, a pressure to get it right - to shape who you become most correctly. Because the effects of that will ripple out to touch so many. I've seen you. I know you. And I trust you with my life, as well as the future of all of us. In the beginning, when we first met, and you were mostly present as the younger you - even then, I was very proud of you. For who you were as a person, and who you struggled to be. You fight for others. I don't worry about you in the way you sometimes might._

Hector jumped in, _I agree with her Max. But bringing it full circle, you don't have to carry all these questions and troubles by yourself in silence. You have us, always - but you also have Chloe. So, look, I'm with Soph on this - and I'm gonna keep beating on this drum. Share everything with Chloe, man. Even the bad stuff. Maybe especially the bad stuff. She's as strong as you. And together, you're stronger than either of you are alone._

 _But —_

 _No wait - please, let me finish. I know what you worry about - but letting Chloe know that there was trauma, erased in another timeline that was itself erased - isn't the same thing as making her go through it herself firsthand. I don't know if you remember, but we had a similar conversation after we first met. Before she found you. Same truth stands - it's not like you're bringing something back to life for a survivor. Not your way, when you've already literally rewritten the events of reality itself. It's not repressed memories or anything like that for any of us - it literally hasn't happened. It won't have the same effect on her psyche. At all. Give her some credit. You too. I know that's not…it's not that way for you. Not completely. Our minds are tricksy. And there's probably some real merit in protecting Chloe from some of the goriest details - and keeping yourself from reliving them or dwelling on them too deeply. It's okay to edit. But this sort of absolute you've given yourself - about what you have to leave behind for her at the cost of everything else - I think you've taken it to its extreme, and you've fallen into an impossible trap that's been five hundred years in the making. Life isn't clean like that for anyone. Maybe you're protecting yourself from reliving the bad, more than you're protecting her. And that would be okay if you properly processed any of it, but you haven't. And by keeping silent with the one person you love most in the world, you maintain this quiet wall between you. I don't want to go all Pink Floyd here, but…_

 _Wait, you're suggesting this is really all about me?_ Max tugged at him. _Callin' me a narcissist?_

 _If only it were that simple… I know you're deflecting tonight, but for real - you're the only one of us to experience the events of the realities you've erased. They live nowhere else but in you. And that's a problem. It's all still very real for you - and invisible to everyone else - I know you feel alone, yet you intentionally carry all that pain, keep it to yourself. It's a mistake. Chloe's here, now, with you, feeling the echoes in your silence. It's not fair to either of you._

 _Okay, Hector - I mean…protecting her, by keeping these things secret from her, you really believe I'm doing more harm than good?_

He nodded. _No doubt in my mind. To you, to her, and most important, to your relationship. I'd never presume to lecture you on how to manage a long-term gig. But If you two really are partners, I go back to Sophie's words. She deserves all of you. And you deserve all of her. You haven't ever had that. Not yet. And keeping secrets from each other…it's like you're breaking your prime directive with… wait… oh, what? Sorry Max - hold on. Sophie - holy shit. Look._

He dove. Zoomed out. Sidewise. A thread that terminated. Sophie told her it shouldn't have an end like that. He followed it, slipped. Shifted. The rest appeared.

Max could tell they were somewhere new.

 _No. That's not it. The shiny timeline thing - it is - a part of it, but it's also a giant smokescreen. Shit. Soph. There. Goddammit. I am not very smart._

Sophie highlighted for Max what Hector was visualizing. Three tuned knots, linked to each other, but inverted - everything was inside out - the knots were on the outside, sliding between each other, surrounding everything inside his point of view. Appeared as the background. So expansive, that they were missed in plain sight. He moved the center, something rotated in an odd direction, and they became visibly interlinked knots again. Back.

 _Of course. Never even considered…_ Hector's disappointment in himself bled through. _Quick 101 - what you saw - what I see in people, with Sophie's help - it's my interpretation, of a person's psychology, pathology, their experiences, traumas, pain, injuries, things stand out, it's…Sophie helps me connect, but I experience what I see in my own head as a visual - that three-dimensional space with volumes and patterns and abstract shapes and colors and forms that are self-consistent to me - each is a unique map of a person's consciousness, and a language for understanding them._

Max raised a mental eyebrow. _The blobs?_

Hector corrected, _Or something like VR of medical scans, whatever. Okay, fine - blobs. You get the idea, smartass. Things get tangled up, stand out visually. And once I find something, we all have to sync back up to figure out what it is - locate the whatever-it-is that corresponds to the patterns I see, navigating with Sophie, using her access to their memories - that's mostly Sophie and me together, sometimes asking questions and guiding. It usually goes pretty quick. Minutes. Hours. The finding it part. But we missed something with you. See? That's why we've never…_

The whole visual snapped, changed to something completely different. And again. And again.

Max shrugged, _I'm sorry - I don't have any idea what I'm looking at. I've never understood this part. Your language, not mine. What does any of it mean?_

He started over. _With everyone else, it's always the same. I can move in any of three-axes through the map. See what I need to see. Like our view of the real world. Our brains are wired for the space we work in._

 _Sure. But…_

 _My map is wrong for your mind. Well, incomplete. Wrong shape. I thought it was because there was so much more complexity, from you being alive so long, and that's why it's taken us way more time to get anywhere with you. But it's apparently cause I'm a giant dumbass. Guess what? Surprise. Like the rest of you, your consciousness goes in more directions than we usually have available to us here. And…I don't know how to visualize an 8-dimensional volume. Nobody does. I'm making the number up; I don't know how many. I've only been seeing a tiny 3-D slice though, thinking it was all of you. Turns out, we landed inside a higher dimensional trauma abstract, and I didn't recognize it. I can move in three axis all I want - but I'm only moving around inside this same slice. Gotta go a new direction off the map to see, is all. But any non-3-D direction, it's a whole new slice. Fortunately —_

Max squinted her eyebrows together. Shuddered. _Guys. English. Please? You're making my head hurt._

 _Sorry Max. Bottom line - we've got it. It's solved._

 _Wait - what? For reals?_

 _It's work for you now, but…those jump cuts you saw - those were me moving in additional directions. Dimensions of volume. I can get us back to what we saw, just outside it. The three big knots are what we needed - we hit the mark first time we did this, like two years ago. It still worked - I've been looking for something that was literally all around us - looking at it the whole time - just didn't realize we were inside it. Okay, sorry. It's so simple now. Soph? You mind? You got this from here?_

 _Sure. Yes._ Sophie put it all together for Max. _It isn't complicated. In your heart, you've codified, come to believe, that if you can keep the terrible versions of reality from everyone else, then maybe it was all worth it. And maybe, you can one day forgive yourself. Not for what happened to Chloe in all the courses of her lives. But for leaving her behind. For abandoning her._

Max froze. Her breath caught, chest tightened. _But I already know that I left…why does this feel like this to me now? Why do I…?_

Sophie took her hand. _Max. I'm sorry - this, we didn't see it ourselves until just now. You talked with her, that day when we were going to share your memories with her, before she was activated within herself - but this part is still unresolved. It's not the single instance at the end of the last branch, when you jumped. But the repeating pattern, you see?_

They were right.

 _Fuck._

She held on to them both, brow furrowed. Concentrating. Followed.

There it was. The truth of it.

The tangled mess of truths and timelines and triggers and blended memories, maybe mixed up with a fair bit of unresolved serial PTSD and denial and righteous anger for the broken world and their real progress and insistence on the bright shiny path and never again for everyone over…broken promises…and…it was all wrong. They were all valid. Symptoms. Point problems. But she missed it. They did too.

And she knew it was true and wrong and right and they were the only options she ever had and the only choices she could make at the time, based on what she knew and what her hijacked senses told her, and yet…

 _I left Chloe behind._

 _I left her all alone._

 _Went away._

 _Again._

 _And again._

 _And again._

… _and again…and…_

 _After her dad died. And in that fucking bathroom. And after the train station, when I found her again years later and I didn't even try to comfort her and…I just noped out, and fucking left her there, broken, I jumped again and again in so many loops and so many other times… Leaving her behind each time, and when it really counted, in spite of all the promises that I'd never do it again I…jumped away from her forever at the end. And then when Roland took us, I left her again. I went to sleep, and fuck, none of the good I do, and none of the lives I save or the world I changed will ever make up for…_

Spiraling, Max felt the return of guilt and sorrow, unassailable, deserved…even if not. Not anger. No tears. Just a continuation of that deep, black sorrow she carried with her for so long. Her backdrop. Unconscionable. Undeserved. _I left fucking her. It's all I ever do, isn't it. Time after time… She's always alone in the end. I said I'd never…and it doesn't matter that my parents moved us, or that I went back and saved her again, or that I kept trying over and over, or any of the times I brought her back or even that the end wasn't fucking real. She needed me, and it doesn't matter that I didn't know. The result was the same. Fuck. Every time. Alone. And she…_

Max felt both of them in her mind with her then. The love of her friends. Uncritical. Seeing her as she was, decisions, flaws, mistakes and all, accepting and loving still. Felt Hector's hand on her shoulder. A calm. He pulled her into a group hug to match their mental one.

Miserable, she faltered.

 _What's wrong with me guys?_

 _I know I'm not dumb._

 _I know I'm not trying to be dramatic or anything._

 _I'm smart enough to know what's real, what should matter._

 _I know what's reasonable for a person._

 _I know I've been painted into corners where there's been no other way out._

 _I know I've never left her by choice._

 _I know I've never ever abandoned her in my heart._

 _I know I should forgive myself._

 _So why do I feel this way?_

 _Why do I carry this? Why…_

 _But…_

Sophie, soothing, _My dear, sweet friend. Knowing, and_ _ **believing,**_ _may be very different things for you. Knowing hasn't helped you feel any less responsible. Any less heartbroken or sad. And now we can also see, on top of it all, you were so anxious for our Chloe to feel loved, to feel like she was primary, that you denied yourself any time to process your grief for the love you'd lost. Sprinkle on conflicting guilt over broken promises and…trying to change the course of a world in so many ways; it's too many impossible complications for anyone. It makes me so sad that you see yourself as so alone._

Hector, confident, _Max, you've been dealing and not-dealing with this on your own for so long you don't even know the edges anymore. Those three stupid fucking knots fighting and reinforcing each other. See them now, and recognize them for what they are. Understand their limits._

 _The first knot is your absolute directive to protect Chloe from everything that's ever happened to her - which you've put into practice as recrafting all of time and space around her, but keeping the truth only for yourself - lies of omission. In so doing, you've walled off large parts of your life that are devastatingly traumatic for you. Bottled all of that pain in for yourself alone. You can't._

 _The second is that you've ignored your grief at the loss of OtherChloe. You were together longer than anyone in history has ever been. That she may still be out there somewhere only makes it harder to come to any closure. And being with our Chloe fogs that up for you too. But you have to come to terms with all of that, somehow._

 _And the third, tightly bound with the others, you have unresolved guilt for what you judge to be your serial abandonment of Chloe across multiple timelines and branches of reality. And worse, you don't believe that you deserve forgiveness. Without that, you can't move on from any of it._

 _The knots are self-reinforcing and dependent on each other. And that's the shape of the trap you've been in. You haven't been able to work any of it out on your own. Pull to loosen one, the others get tighter. It's why you've been reacting to effects as though they're causes. It's why you feel suffocated. Trapped._

 _Chloe, our resident smartass and chief hyper-intelligence - who loves you more than anything - could help you, but you won't talk to her, because doing so would violate your own misguided 'keep it shiny' absolute. But I think you need to re-examine your commitment to this in light of your results. It's not working. You've been through so much. Too much. And instead of asking her for assistance, you've cut yourself off. And sadly, from parts of yourself as well._

Max held them tight. _But…maybe…I'm so sorry Chloe. And then OtherChloe... You lived out your life…over so much time…not knowing if I abandoned you again…or…and…_

Old ground.

Sophie, gently but firmly, _No, Max. No. That's not the way. Look into your heart. This is the place where you need to go. Center. She always knew. It's why she fought so hard to find you. It's why she found you. And she did._ _ **She found you.**_ _I was there, remember? And I was there again, when her memories went online in our Chloe. I watched a part of you shut down when you discovered that she continued without you. That's my fault. I should have done more to push you, and sooner. I see that now. But if she was here with us, right now, you know what she'd say to you - because we all do. Who or where she is in time or space makes no difference - she's still your Chloe Price. And she'd say that she loves you and that there's nothing to forgive, Max. Nothing, ever. But you already know that. Even if you don't believe you deserve it. Sadly, it's not about her forgiveness._

Sophie let her go. _I think…I think we've helped as much as we can for right now. I too am so very sorry it took us so long, but there's nothing to be done about it._

Hector interjected, _In our defense, we're not the most expensive therapists…_

Sophie shushed him. _Max, you may not feel this way now, but this is a real breakthrough. A victory. In discovering the tangled roots, you can see everything else for the camouflage it is. Now your work begins. Peel it apart. Attack the knots directly. I'm sorry that we can't help you find a way to forgive yourself, as loving and necessary as that is for you. But I can tell you one person who can._

Max shook her head. _But…This? I can't do this to her. No. I can't bring Chloe into this. Guys, it's the whole point. It'll be all for nothing - it's not fair to her to have to listen, when it's about her and about OtherChloe, and she's already sensitive about—_

 _Bullshit._ Hector stopped her. _Dude. Max. Come on. You need to think about you for once; you matter too. And Chloe's tough. She can take it. She'd do anything for you. And you really do need her help. Full stop. Look, all we can do is point the way. And you're not going to resolve this overnight. But there is a way. I believe you need to open up with Chloe. No secrets. And you need to give yourself room and permission to grieve OtherChloe. And hopefully, find a way in all of that to begin to_ _ **believe**_ _that you deserve your own forgiveness. To believe you deserve your happiness. Not everything real has to be so shiny. It so rarely is._

Max nodded, pulled Sophie back, her head between them both. Leaving the link, "Yeah. I know. You're right. And…I…I broke our promise. I have to fix that, at least. If nothing else."

"Trust her the way she trusts you," whispered Sophie.

Hector added, "And please, love and trust yourself as much as we all do."

Max didn't want to let go. It was a lot at once. But simple - and really obvious when they broke it down like that. Made her hopeful. Like it might be manageable, sorta. Even if it wasn't really going to be as simple as all that. "I…thank you. You know I fucking love you guys so much. You know that, right? I can't even…"

Hector kissed her forehead, backed up, booped her lightly on her nose. "We love you too. Jerkface. Come on, Soph. Let's give her some alone time. Shouldn't force Her Holiness to fly away to a private thinking spot when she's gotta go up on stage in a few."

Sophie held Max's gaze. Crinkled her nose. Turned, walked with Hector.

Max laughed, kicked at him. "Yeah - thanks for that by the way." Louder, "Ass. Your timing for this fucking sucks - you guys know that, right? Jeeze."

Hector, over his shoulder, "Your guard was down. Sorry. But I'm glad we finally made some connections. You're tough too - and you can always make more time for yourself. Come in whenever you're ready. A song will do your spirit some good, Caulfield."

She waved them off lamely as they scooted around the corner, out of sight. She leaned back against the wall.

Let all the tension out of her shoulders.

 _Well, that took a turn._

 _So that's it then._

 _What would it even be like without this on me all the time?_

 _I don't know._

 _When was the last time it could have felt like that?_

 _13, maybe?_

She watched the raindrops, frozen in place. Jogged them backward and forward in time.

Made some extra moments for herself.

A start.

* * *

 **Max** gave herself an hour before making her way back. Ten minutes for everyone else. She appeared backstage. Head too busy to feel nervousness. Not that nervous mattered to her as much as it used to.

The MC called her number.

She stepped up onto the stage as he leapt off the other side. Floor was painted black. Rough plywood. A few glow-tape marks here and there. Lights were still on, and the crowd, made up of real faces now, put all eyes on her. Background screen was dark.

 _Just another role to play._

She spoke with the band, changed her mind about the song she picked earlier. Didn't seem appropriate for where her head was. Frivolous. She took her place, center stage behind the microphone stand. Lowered it.

She was taking too long. The members of the audience stared. A few in front shuffled.

Max cleared her throat.

Lights dimmed. One bright spotlight found her. It was like being caught in the beam of a broken lighthouse. Nowhere to go. She glanced up and toward the back. Scanned for Chlo. Hard to see.

The pianist played the opening chords. Light touch. Slow. A little sad.

Max couldn't see her, so she picked a point where she ought to be.

A breath.

Time.

"And I'd give up forever to touch you…"

She kept it simple. Left her voice soft, let the amplifiers do their work to carry it out. Old trick. Only the piano haunting along with her.

Cheesy old song. 'Iris'. _But…sometimes, what you feel, what you want to say_ _ **is**_ _cheesy. They're perfect that way._ And she felt every word as she sang. Pushed as much of that feeling through the microphone, through her minimal body language as she should. Chloe would know it was all for her.

They'd have three days alone together, after.

Her version of this song felt like the right segue into a profound apology. And overdue conversations. Didn't know where to start, where it would lead, how it would sit. If it would even help. Fought her doubt, hesitation, feelings of guilt for burdening Chloe with even more crap, but, maybe small doses over weeks would be better? She didn't know. See how it went. If it backfired, she could rewind it all away, but she knew she wouldn't. Arguments, conflicts had to stay too. One shot. _Them's the rules. Broken too many already. And we only have like three._ _Four? Three. Three and a half._

At the second chorus, she happened to look down. Outshone by the harsh wash of the spotlight, a sea of glow sticks, rolling in waves from wall to wall in time with her song.

She'd completely forgotten about the audience.

After it was over, she thanked the pianist, gave the clapping audience a gracious bow, and headed offstage again. Waited a few minutes, for the next act to begin, and folded back upstairs. Tried to quietly slip in next to Chloe, without anyone making a fuss.

Her friends knew her. They let her.

Hector gave her a wordless fist-bump. Exploded it. Others, nods of approval.

Ariel said only, "That was sweet."

In her head, Sophie. _Everything will be okay, Max. Promise._

Chloe got up, took her hand, sat back down, pulling Max with her. Max ended on her lap, wrapped in a hug. That was all.

No fuss. Perfect.

* * *

 **James** shivered. His left wrist was exposed; he pulled at his glove. Only his imagination. Or, perhaps, early stages of delirium. Step over step, either way. Frozen. Like her.

 _Keep going._

Like her.

That night, as she rose…shattering stone-hard ice like fluffy snow, suspended in lines and twisting fields of force. It should have killed her. Or held her, pinned and frozen. The force crossover point was an extreme environment. It killed each of the test animals instantly, but…she shrugged it off like it was nothing. Like _he_ was nothing. What…was she?

He couldn't afford to think about it before. Not until he was all the way back.

Effortlessly, in that blue dress, sneakers. Like she was just a kid, fresh from a party. Smiled at him, even. Before trapping the operations and tactical teams his overseas financiers loaned him. Didn't make any sense, what was happening at the time. Not until his feet went out from under him. It was _her_. Something in her expression as he collapsed under far too much of his own weight. Had to be five or six G's. _She did that._ From inside _his_ trap. With no apparent tools of her own.

That was what it felt like to be at-mercy.

But he was still here.

She had control of her path through time and apparently space as well. But…there was more than her own path involved.

He, at least, regained some control of his own now.

Another switchback, nearly missed, poorly marked. He turned to his new path, continued up. The swirl of snow and fog thinned to head-lamp wisps as he climbed. And then, they were gone. Below somewhere. The peaks above visible only in what they blocked, as bright pin-light stars filled the skies beyond. Vast. Painfully cold. Far from empty.

It made more sense, after his release. Freedom to analyze. After he debriefed with Jacob's people, once she let him go. After listening to the audio of her time with Wallace.

James believed her. Every word.

No real choice, given that. Not for him.

Theirs wasn't the winning hand. He failed them already, and wouldn't be missed. If he was honest, they never saw him as equal…only second generation, momentarily useful. And for himself, he was neither naive about the nature of their ties to power, nor entirely comfortable with them. Distance solved whatever minor qualms he might have had. The science, the technical challenges, the resources made available. Those fed his ego. Those were the draw. His purpose. Not that he didn't wish to impress. He did. But he compartmentalized the rest. That was someone else's purpose to contend with.

But…that was before.

* * *

 **Ariel** stopped to use the restroom on her way out. Caught up with them outside, all bunched up in a dry circle of not-raining. Skyscrapers, city lights reflected roughly off the wet asphalt and concrete. Like looking into an upside down world.

"You're off the hook, Navarro," said Ty. "You were pretty ok back there."

"I know. Goes for my co-conspirator over here too."

"Who? Me?" Ariel looked around. "Well, guess I've always wanted to be the World's Most Co-Okayest at something? Did I say that right?"

Chloe raised her voice. "Alright, everybody. It's been real. You're good peeps. Good pipes on the lot of ya. But it's past someone's bedtime, and the bus is leaving. You can stay if you want, but we're off the grid til Thursday morning. You'll have to hang or find your own way back. Sorry - we've probably earned a break from you people, and you've for sure earned a break from us."

"I hear that," said John, loudly, under his breath.

Max shrugged, Chloe snickered. Let a stream of fat drops hit him.

"Okay, Trace and I are on the bus," said John, wiping his face and linking arms with Tracey.

Ty stepped closer. "I'm in the field tomorrow. Much as I'd like to stay, I'm coming with y'all."

Chloe motioned Parker over. "Come on. I know you've got deadlines and paperwork and shit to do back at A51, dude…"

"True enough," he answered. "We're close."

"We're not that close," Chloe quipped.

Even Parker grinned at that one.

Sophie warmed her hands, asked hopefully, "Is Master Emo traveling with you, or would I be able to kitty-sit again?"

"We were gonna bring him with," said Max, "but what do you think, Chlo?"

"He listens to Soph. Which is more than he's been doing with me this week. Sure. If you want. He's a springy li'l bastard, though. Just keep him out of the tall trees. Never get him back down."

"Yay!" Sophie made an A-frame hand-clap, smiling. "I'll treat him as family."

"Hope he doesn't do the same to you." Chloe hugged Max from behind. "You know, cause he should behave better with you than he does with us. Alright. Hector? Ariel? Bus. On or off?"

Hector took a step back. "Off. Ari promised to show me around the city."

"Oh." _Is that what I said?_ _Shit. I kinda did. I don't have a toothbrush, passport, cash, I've got a million things to do, and a warm bed at home and I'm halfway through season 2, and I can't be here 'til Thursday! And I…_

Hector read her hesitation. "I'm sorry, Ariel - I didn't mean to put you on the spot. It's cool if you want to get back tonight. Another time, yeah? I have a training course to redesign anyway, and—"

It was a graceful out. On impulse, she changed course. "No, you know what? Not at all. It'll be fun - let's hang out. I know this izayaka. Or…okay, I've looked it up at least. I can do what I need to do working out of this office for a few days. But you know, we should run now, catch reception before they leave for the day? Get care packages and keys to a couple of the corporate suites?"

"Cool. Yeah. I'll get us a car. Maybe some umbrellas too? Since our fearless raindrop warrior princess is leaving us to an uncertain drippy fate."

Chloe scratched her eyebrow with her middle finger. Coughed.

Max gave a wave. "Bye guys. Have fun. Be safe."

Ari must have blinked again. They were all there, and then they weren't. Fresh rain slammed down inside the circle, erasing it.

Hector had his phone out already, searching for a car service.

* * *

 **Hector** raised his glass. "To the friendshipping power of ponies."

Ari leaned unsteadily on the bar with her elbow. "Yeah! Ponies that don't go with the herd…flock? Do horsies flock? Whatever, that's twice we've gone our own way - twice now. Ponies!"

They both slammed shots back. A little buzzed.

She asked the bartender for another round; something to compliment the large bottles of Sapporo and the food to come.

Hector snapped apart his chopsticks with a redundant 'snap'. "Sorry. You were saying?"

She slouched. "Right. Yeah. Like. I don't think I could do this anywhere else. And not just be a useless cog, I mean. I just feel like, we've done something real for people, you know? I mean really real. The team working on this is so good - like I hope you guys realize how good everybody is. You know? I love everybody so much."

Hector corrected her. "There's no 'you guys' though - there's only 'all of us' - we're it."

"Yeah. I love that. But still. I hope you guys know all the same. How dedicated everybody is. It's like, almost 2,400 whole people so far we've gotten. Not counting Max's saves. We found them. And then, it's like the local cops go in and they rescue them, and…and then like over a thousand other people have been arrested so far, and it's all good. It's good. Right? We're helping. So much…many…so many more to go. It's a strong start."

Hector pulled hair out of his face. It fell back. "It is. Forget the numbers though - for each individual person, it's like they're getting their entire life back. And whole families, groups of friends, get their people back. Each of them is a hundred others. It's personal."

She sipped at her beer. Chin on her hand. "Very personal."

Inside the pub, it was all warm glow and polished maple walls. Toasty. Broken by a blast of cold air as an older couple pushed in through the door from outside. The bartender placed the couple a few seats down from them.

Hector reached for the edamame. "Hey, Ari, can I ask you what may be a personal question?"

"Shoot."

"You seem like have a lot of yourself invested in this. In a way that makes it feel like more than just caring in general. It does seem personal for you. May I ask? And 'no' is a perfectly acceptable answer if you're not comfortable answering."

Ari sat sideways on the stool. Elbow on the bar, chin in her other hand. "Yeah. I mean, it is. It's…ancient history. Not that ancient, but I'm okay to talk about it."

Hector gave her space to think, talk. A table by the door erupted into cheers and raised glasses. Hanging red paper lanterns outside the front window blew around in the wind.

She continued, "So you've probably used some super-secret powers of observation to figure out for yourself that I'm probably Asian?"

"We leave all that to the supercomputer in the basement," he teased.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, I was born not too far from here. Chiba. It was me, mom and dad, and my brother, Toshi. I don't remember much; I was just a li'l radish, but…I remember everyone was happy. Formative years, right?"

He sipped.

"But when I was maybe four, I think four, the company my dad worked for moved us all to LA. Felt like he headed up something important. Total change of everything. Guess that was cool for a couple of years, but something happened when I was in second grade, and I don't know if he got laid off or fired. I don't know the full story - but in retrospect, I think maybe he had some tie to criminal activity and got caught by the company, or, I don't know. It was weird. Anyway, after, it was like something changed in him. He lost part of himself, I think. Or maybe a different side of him had to come out to deal."

The bartender refreshed their shots; clear liquid from a tall white bottle. Ari thanked him.

"You stayed in LA though? After?"

She faced front, poked at an edamame bean. "Yeah. I think we were supposed to come back to Japan, but there wasn't much money, and he rolled the dice trying to find new work before papers and things expired… Mom stayed at home. Neither of my parents made much effort to learn English, so it was hard for them. I think it also hurt his pride that his kids had to play interpreter…on top of everything else. But…he'd be fine one minute, and the next it was like he'd just get _so_ angry. Never knew what."

Hector, sympathetic, "Can't have been easy for any of you."

"No. But I remember, my brother and I were watching TV one night. Mom and dad were arguing in the kitchen. We moved a couple of times by then, so we were in this kinda sketchy apartment. Didn't seem that way at the time, but I remember a lot of huge spiders, and it wasn't in a good part of town. Anyway, there we were, with nowhere else in the apartment to go where we couldn't hear them. They'd never fought before. At least, not in front of us. So we kept our eyes glued to the TV like it would all go away or something. Pretending to watch. Cop show, I think. But they kept at it. At one point, he knocked her down, was on top, choking her. We were frozen. Listening to her cry out. Tosh and I, we couldn't even look at each other. Eyes front. I remember shaking. I wanted more than anything to make my dad stop, call the police, kick him - something. But…neither of us could move. I didn't know if he'd stop. That was…the first time.

"And then, that was what normal was for us. He'd take turns. With mom and me. He never touched Toshi - which I think fucked my brother up more. We were all on eggshells, minefield, pick your metaphor. All the time. In hindsight, it might have been drugs too, but…I don't know. I don't know what he was into, honestly. If mom knew, she's never said. But I'd hear him leave late at night, you know. It was like living with that constant fear of setting him off. He was careful not to leave marks where people could see, but—"

Hector found himself torn between sympathy and anger. "Jesus Christ, dude. That sucks. You were a defenseless little kid. Nobody deserves that shit."

Ari shrugged, "People have had it a lot worse. It's just, this is the part I keep coming back to - you asked why the work is so important to me, so kinda diving in. But when it was my turn, when he chose me, I'd scream and cry - I mean, it hurt, a lot, but it was also the whole thing. Fear and anger and being trapped. I couldn't help mom, couldn't do anything. I was so small. So, instead of fighting back, I'd always scream a little more than I really felt. A little louder. A little longer. Hoping, just maybe, that someone outside the apartment would hear. That someone would come in, do something to make it stop. Save us, I guess. Save him? I didn't understand, and I wanted someone to bring my dad back.

"I didn't want to be invisible. Silent. Not like mom."

"I'm sorry." He ran his hand through his hair. "Damn. I'm guessing no one ever—"

"Nope. Not one. I'd see their looks around the apartment complex later. Somewhere between sympathy and looking away. Know they heard, but… Well, that's not entirely true. There was one. One. At school. A teacher saw a few…I was on the monkey bars, and the bottom of my shirt pulled up. She saw some bruises on my lower back. Started asking questions. I got scared, didn't say anything, but I knew she must have, cause he ripped into me again when I got home that day. I really wished she hadn't."

Ari shook her head. Like waking herself up. "Wow. Yeah. Sorry, Hector. Trip to downer street here. Anyway, if there's a nugget of 'why' in me, that's it. I won't ever look away when someone cries out for help. I can't. And I can't stop halfway. That's why I feel it like that. That was me. Us."

"God, Ariel. How long did that go on?"

"I think I was ten? A few years. My grandpa, mom's dad, came over to the US for a visit. And then…dad wasn't around anymore. Mom moved us, divorced, remarried a year later. American. Stepdad. Tetsu. Ted. He passed away a couple of years ago, but you know, he was kind to mom. Never raised a hand. We didn't always get along, but Tosh and I both respected him for the way he treated her, you know? He gave us some sense of healthy through the rest of our school years. I'll always love him for the way he was with all of us.

"Anyway, after grad Toshi moved back here to Japan for school. And I stayed in the US, went Navy. Intelligence. Got my degree while I was in, naturalized, went OCS, traveled the world for a few more, and then back out to the real world. Couple of years contracting after, and…well, you know the rest."

"Yeah. I didn't know. Makes sense. Sorry. Didn't mean to—"

She sat up. "It's okay. It was on my mind anyway. I'm near 'home' again for the first time in a long time. And I don't feel any of it. It's weird. Like it was another life. A 'could have been'. If we'd stayed. Like I can't always pass for American, but I don't exactly feel Japanese either. Another 'other' I guess. And I'm jealous and a little ashamed that Chloe seems to know more about the alt-culture of my hometown than I do…

"So - that's me. Just another fucked up, single, basic-ass straight girl in the world, probably in platonic love with Max and Chloe." She laughed.

Hector joined her, reached like he was going to take her glass. "Think you've had enough sake. Least 'til the kitchen gets us the rest of our food."

"You know what I mean." She smiled. Looked away.

"I do."

She sat up straighter. Crossed her knees. "Alright, Mr. Navarro. Your turn. You're all OG Fan Club — what's your story?"

* * *

 **Ariel** wasn't sure why she shared all of that with him. Felt safe, maybe. But she was also curious. Wasn't entirely sure why she was suddenly included, but she was getting to see a different side of the people she worked for. Human after all.

And as much as she ate earlier, the scents from the kitchen were making her hungry again. Buzz was wearing off too. It's why she liked sake the best. Friendly, warm little happy waves of buzziness.

Hector turned toward her on his stool. Took a swig. "I had a different childhood. Mexico City. Was just a scrawny kid when my talent showed up to hit me in the face with a giant 'fuck you' stick. Like somebody flipped a chaos-switch. Out of nowhere, just, _bang_. Went into an uncontrolled panic. Thought for sure that if I wasn't going crazy, that something inside my brain was badly broken. Like the whole world was suddenly stuck on repeat. Double vision, double everything, 5 seconds apart. Parents were professionals, pretty well off. But they didn't have any idea what the hell was going on, or how to help me. I was a freaked out mess. So there we were, heading to the hospital, cause what the fuck else are they gonna do, right? And this cop, he pulls us over. My dad's telling him how they're taking me to the hospital and it's an emergency, and can he help get us there, right? I'd never seen him so afraid. Mom either. I was in a blind panic already, and seeing my parents fearful like that didn't help at all."

Ari covered her mouth. "Oh my god. Can't even imagine how scary that must have been."

"Yeah, well, dude was a real cop and all, but he already knew. Described my symptoms in detail - the dual streams and everything. He had our full attention with that. And there on the side of the road, he gave us the speech. If we got into any system anywhere, they'd come for me. He made them sound bad. Boogeymen. Didn't have much time, pulled over like that, but it's like he knew what buttons to push with my parents. Papa turned around, drove right back home. Guy said they'd be in touch. A few days of pure hell later, we had a visitor. Transport. Wanted to take me away, for everyone's safety. Said they could teach me to control it, maybe. And we'd be apart for a while, but I'd be free."

"How'd that go? I mean, obviously…"

"Awesome." Hector rolled his eyes. "It was a few years living out of a tiny camper with a hygiene-challenged dude who made Yoda look super-useful. Stupid green oven mitt. That's the…joke. He wasn't a pleasant man, or very helpful. In the end, after all that, he said I was too extreme. Couldn't help me to control it, but he, uh, by coming to that conclusion, he made me understand I'd have to learn to live with it. That was something. Sucked. But he'd also taught me something about how to take care of myself. Cause it's not like he was doing much of it.

"Handed me off to a safe-house in Guadalajara. They finished my education, taught me weapons, self-defense, others-offense. People came and went. We had, you know, one busted black and white TV. Not a lot of affection to go around either. Functional commune. Food was decent. Few years later, they shipped me off to Quebec. Paired me up with Sophie. At first, it was to see if maybe she could help me. But we got along okay. Hard not to with her, right? Irritating. And then, like that, we were a team. Kept on the move. She kept some of the self-proclaimed higher ups safely in touch with each other, kept me balanced for the most part, and my only job was to hang out and keep her safe. Or them safe if she was compromised."

"Good job." Ari reached for a squid-chip.

He laughed, "Yeah - no. Total fail. We were both murdered in 2013 in a hotel room. Dumped beside a bed."

"Shut up. Oh. Oh my god - right. Sorry - stupid sometimes. Our fearless leaders?"

"Yep. And then there was the second fail. They took Soph, and I was supposed to protect the rest of them by, well, hitting her with a big lead 'delete' button."

Ari figured where this was going. "You couldn't do it."

He leaned forward onto the bar. "Hell no. Faked the motions, but nah. Wasn't an option. Loved her. Never happen."

Ari touched his arm. "I don't see that as a fail."

He smiled. "I don't either. They did, but I didn't care. Kept looking for her."

"Our heroes again? Intervention?"

"Sort of. Max financed the rescue, but it was John, Ty, and an assortment of Steves…"

"Interesting."

"Simple. Meanwhile, Max was off saving Vegas from a nuclear goddamn bomb. Crazy start-up week."

The bartender interrupted to drop off a couple of plates from the kitchen. Hamachi, toro, and some fried chicken on fresh lettuce.

"And now you're, what, just bummin' around, giving out life-advice and occasionally committing random acts of training or espionage?" She stole a piece of nigiri from his plate.

"Gotta earn my keep." He scowled. Stole one of her fried chicken bits. "Gotten to know my family again this way. And there are worse jobs than saving the world with a dope team, protected by a couple of friendly, over-powered superheroes, you know?"

"Who can also sing." She lifted her beer.

"True dat." He gave her the head nod. "Buy me another drink."

She motioned for the bartender again. Ordered. "So…you and Sophie? Ever…?"

"No. No. It's never been like that between us. We love each other, in ways I'm not sure most people can access, but it's never been a romantic thing. I mean, I had feelings for her, cause you've met her. But," he laughed, "there's no…mechanism for secrets between a telepath and an empath…"

She winced. "Oh. Shit. That must have been awkward."

"No. Opposite. It was impossible not to understand each other at like the atomic level. We reached an equilibrium between us almost immediately. What we have now is, I think, unique in all the world, and very special. But it's it's own thing, and it's not that."

"Yeah…Oh, wow." She pointed. The hanging lamps outside were nearly sideways. It was raining hard, wind howling, whistling.

Hector sipped his beer. "Glad we're in here. You and your brother, still close?"

Ari touched a piece of toro to her soy dish. "No. We were in different worlds after leaving home. Travel and stuff. Lost touch mostly. Mom doesn't hear from him often either. I don't know. He found a home here after school. In Japan. I think he very much wanted to belong. Have a place. Maybe feel Japanese again. I don't know. So, no. I don't even know for sure where he is."

After a moment, "You know, we have tools for that kind of thing. Finding people."

"Yeah, but that's for personal use and…I know, I could. But as much as there's a part of me that misses him so much, there's another that tries to respect his decision to cut himself off from us. I love my brother. I try not to take it personally. I don't think he'd mean it that way. And all he has to do is call mom if he wants to talk."

"Sorry."

"No, it's okay. Is what it is. No sob stories. Just crap that happens to us, you know? Gotta let people be what they are, and hang out or move on. Speaking of, once we're done here, if you're up for it, there's an all-night arcade around the corner. Blinky lights? Video games? Hit things with mallets? More beer, and maybe some ice cream before we call it a night?"

"Yeah. Cool. Sounds like a plan." He raised his beer.

She clinked it.

* * *

 **James** kicked an accumulation of dangerous ice from his boot.

The air, thin now, held even less warmth. Every small movement was an effort, every muscle in him cried out for rest. For sleep. It would be so easy to lie down. Just for a minute. But if he stopped, he knew he'd die on the trail. Short of his goal. Short of a place almost forgotten, assuming it still existed at all. The site couldn't be much farther. The sky had to run out of rock to climb eventually.

He reached a gloved hand into his parka. Pulled out a foil pack, still warm from his body. High-energy bar. Vegan. _Hypocrite._ He tore at the package with his teeth, chattered his way through the first bites, still climbing. A mix of carved and stone steps now. The path was too steep for anything less structured.

He was surprised by her offer. To Wallace. Some families might take her up on it. Hard to predict. Wasn't sure how any defections would play with the majority. They'd test her promise of protection.

Most wouldn't consider it though - not in his estimation. They still had that illusion of protection afforded to those traveling in a school or a herd. He'd been singled out once already. Knew how that felt.

Didn't want to be anywhere near them when a fight finally broke out.

She spared his life once already.

Better to be away, on his own. For himself. For everyone.

Before he left, he tied up loose ends. Finalized the legal instructions. Signed it all away. Divested. Everything. Property. Patents. Companies. His stakes, his funds. Assigned all that could be transferred to her. To them. She earned it. He had more in common with them than with the others anyway. At least, as he was in the beginning. And maybe now, at whatever end, or new beginning, this might be.

His mind chewed through thoughts roughly.

He had honest respect for Caulfield. And Price.

And he wouldn't need 'stuff' where he was headed.

Out of the fight.

She spared his life.

Gave him room.

Gave him this chance.

A choice.

Somewhere in the darkness above, the temple. Half-remembered from an old National Geographic he'd discovered and read, fascinated, as a child. There was little more to be found in his hurried research. The vintage issue, online. The rough map it contained. A few locals in a nearby village pointed him to the trailhead. Wished for him to carry their messages, deliver them once he passed over. Prayers, for those they'd lost.

That wasn't his ideal destination, but he took their letters, flags.

Those strange symbols carved into the rock inside the structure. He flashed to those pages again in his trance state, during his captivity. The monks, old photographs from the article… A new calling maybe. If he could find them, convince them. Or their descendants, most probably. Perhaps they could help him find that peace again. The place in himself where he no longer existed.

And if they were no longer there, he knew he wouldn't make it back down.

Perhaps he'd find it for himself after all.

He doubted anyone would ask to carry a message up for him.

* * *

 **Max** woke up early to get a start on caffeine and breakfast. They were only gonna be on a few hours of sleep. She lounged on the second-floor balcony, working on a lazy crossword, waiting. Armored against the mild chill with a dark, fuzzy robe and bunny-ear slippers. Her knees crossed, foot bouncing, one oversized bun flipped against the bottom of her heel.

Two of their suns were out already, warming the morning. Flying critter-calls carried over the waves.

They started calling them seagulls, even if they weren't. More comfortable mouthful than _those bird-like creatures_. The way their greys blended with the brief morning sky, it was easy to miss the extra wings. And with similar size, and bird-adjacent behaviors, it was all close enough to keep the illusion. Friendly and completely fearless. But they went out of their way to make themselves heard every time one of the suns popped over the horizon.

She thought absently about timing. For a chat with Chloe.

Heard some rustling inside. "Hey, love. Out here."

Chloe slid open the screen, leaned her shoulder against the jam, squinty, rubbed an eye. Max's blue toothbrush stuck out of her mouth. She wore a tank top, with oversized track pants tied up around her waist. Her hair was a cute mess. "Hey. I was led to believe there would be bacon? And coffee?"

Max pointed. "Coffee's cooking. Bacon's on a plate under the paper towels. On my favorite trivet."

Chloe, puzzled, "You have a favorite trivet?"

Max, equally puzzled, "Wait - you don't? Who _are_ you? Oh! Hey! What's a four-letter word for cat?"

Chloe closed the screen, called back over her shoulder, "The one they want is probably _lion_."

"Duh. That was killin' me. Thanks!"

Max continued while Chloe clattered around in the kitchen.

Their vacation pre-fab was pre-fab, but also pretty fab. Two well-designed floors of wood slats, steel, and glass, perched naturally on a rolling green hill near a beautiful beach. Two bedrooms, two baths, a gorgeous kitchen, open ceilings, loft, skylights. Power. Water. Comfy furniture. Books. Everything they could ever need.

Chloe returned after a few minutes, holding two plates above Max's eye-level. Eyebrows raised like it was a dare. "Waffles or pancakes?"

"That was quick." Max considered, compromised. "Halfsies?"

Chloe set the plates down on the coffee table. Both were the same. Waffles _and_ pancakes, with a small cup of fruit and bacon on the side. "Am I super-duper-awesome, or what?"

"Has that ever been a real question?" Max kicked her with a bunny-foot. Smiled.

Chloe, gave a shrug, eyes to the sky. "No. Not really." Leaned down, brushed a wisp of hair behind Max's ear with her finger, gave a quick kiss. "Go ahead. Start. Be right back."

Hungry, Max dove in.

Chloe came back with fresh coffee cups, closed the screen with her foot, hopping to her seat. "Hey - can we go on an adventure today?"

Max, between bites, "Thanks - you rule. And lemmie check my calendar…what calendar? I'm all yours. See something you wanna explore?"

While they'd only wandered across a fraction of their small world directly, Chloe had an army of tiny satellites in orbit.

"Yes, but there's also a little eroded crater-island in the southern hemisphere that looks like a nice afternoon hike? It's got a little forest, some fields, some nice rocky cliffs?"

"Perv. And sounds fun. In. Sneaker hike or boot hike?"

"Sneakers. Def. But we should bring water, snacks prolly. Lunch maybe? Up to you on your camera, but…never know."

"I'll bring it along. I mean, I could just kinda point it randomly in any direction and capture _something_ rad that nobody's ever seen before, right?" She smeared some butter into waffle-crannies. "I love our little planet."

"And it loves you too, Max. Now eat, you weirdo."

* * *

 **Chloe** slid off the mound of sand left behind after the bubble's collapse. Her feet sank with each new step. The sand they picked up from their beach was lighter than the local variety.

She set the cooler to float in an enclosed tide-pool. Hopefully, keep it from warming up too quickly. They could always pop back to get food from the fridge, or Chinese from Paris, or whatever, but that would break the illusion of a day out. This was more fun. Max was already halfway to the top of the shallow dune, where it met the mossy green field. Chloe jogged after her.

They both changed into jeans and sneakers before heading out, but Max went into the day with another Ghibli t-shirt she picked up in Tokyo. Catbus. Tied a grey hoodie around her waist, messenger bag over her shoulder and she was set. Chloe threw on an old black Smiths t-shirt and red flannel she left in the dryer last time they were here. Comfy. Versatile.

Max waited at the top. "Where to, Cap'?"

Chloe pointed, "Like to try to go up along that ridge. Should be some killer views. And then back down the inside of the rim, where it smoothes out, come back through the forest? Should get us here for our sammiches and stuff in a couple hours?

"Cool." Max put her hands on her hips, stood tall. "I claim this island in the name of Spongebob, BlindBeard, and the Pirate Twins of Arcadia Bay…you are hereby and henceforth known as _Land Island_."

"I'm not even gonna say it," Chloe looked away.

"What? You're just mad cause you didn't think to name it first."

"Whatever. Thataway." Chloe smacked her butt, scooted her.

Max squinted. "I know that's farther away than it looks - how steep a climb?"

"It's exactly as far as it is. Approximately. And it's kindof a wash. Things get taller in low grav. But we're lighter; it's all bueno."

"Not complaining. Just curious."

They set off.

The sandy beach gradually disappeared behind them as they crested the first rise. The field they walked through was a mix of probably five or six different kinds of plants. The familiar low mossy squish, multiplied by a few variations with different colors, growth patterns. Stalky pod thingies sprouted up every so often, leaning conspicuously toward Max and Chloe as they passed.

Nothing threatening. Just…over friendly.

As they crested the ridge an hour later, the shape of the island became more apparent. Like an ancient meteor crater that collapsed on one side, eroded into the sea. What was left above water was a tall, wide crescent, almost half-circle with the basin, with a small islet amidst the far waves marking all that remained of the other rim.

Max took a few shots along the way, and a few more up top, out over the bay where they first landed.

Chloe was more interested in the rock formations down the other side. The composition of the planet was different from Earth, which, coupled with the reduced gravity, led to some interesting erosive shock-columns standing outside the rim.

A small green leafy something they thought was a plant came over to investigate them as they snacked at the top. It sat near them, didn't move again while they were there. Stayed when they left.

As they hiked down along the inside of the crater, they sang songs that wouldn't exist for another fifty years. Sadly realizing that some may never come to exist at all. Beyond Chloe's library, anyway. They were changing a lot in the world. And songs were as much a product of their times as they were of the people who wrote them. Actions rippled. And there was a good chance that some parents might not meet at the same time, in the same way, or at all. Some of the people who were there in the first loop wouldn't come to exist in the second. Others who never lived the first time would get a chance. Some go on to make new music. Or other music. Or not.

A sobering reminder that they were shuffling the deck as much as they were trying to change the rules of the game.

They passed through the forest quietly. Each tiny opening in the canopy above split light into three beams of different colors. One for each sun. Multiplied by the millions. Almost magical.

And a tight but diverse ecosystem. Tall stalks with open bulbs rose seventy feet overhead. They shed horizontal mini-copies of themselves along the trunks, like spiraling palm trees that read more from a distance as weedy pines. Smaller vines, shrubs and interconnecting growths helped stabilize them. Small, fuzzy six-leggies gathered to sip from pools below some of the most massive trees. And smaller critters and microscopics handled waste removal and breakdown.

Chloe did some quick scans, analysis. Like everywhere else she'd sampled on Steve, this was a cooperative ecosystem, rather than a competitive one. The smaller animals dispersed seeds and tended ground, and in return were fed by nutrient pools produced by the tallest stalks. The more modest plants contributed to the stability of the larger ones, provided homes and building materials for the critters, and in turn, took their part in the nutrient sharing through direct connections. The tallest among them gathered sunshine, converting it to atmosphere, and food for themselves, which they shared with others that helped them reach such heights.

A closed symbiotic loop. Unclear how much of that was natural in the original habitat, and how much was designed into its replacement by OtherChloe. But as a consequence, little on the ground was toxic, and there was almost no predation. Most of that was reserved for the lower reaches of the seas, where resources were more scarce.

She filed away a few notes.

* * *

 **Max** spread the blanket out over the green smush of the field, throwing distance from the water. Yawned.

Chloe unpacked the cooler. "Tired already?"

Max pulled out a couple of water bottles. "Still. And, good tired. Being outside is nice. No phones, no texts, no social media notifications…" _Might be good a time as any._

Chloe laughed. "When do you ever get social media notifications?"

"Hey! Well, I mean. Other people around us at home do, I guess. They make noises." Max stuck out her tongue. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah… It's nice being quiet with you. Hmm." Chloe stretched. "It's almost like vacations were meant to be enjoyed or something."

Max reached for one of the wrapped packages. "Pretty sure these sandwiches were too. Nom."

They sat side by side, munching on a well-deserved lunch. The air carried the scents of freshness and plants and sea. The ocean sparkled like waves of diamonds.

Max watched Chloe out of the corner of her eye. Her hair caught the breeze. Eyes were on the horizon. Probably thinking Chloe thoughts.

 _Bite the bullet._

Max finished half her sandwich. Held off on the rest. Broke their silence. "Chlo. Is it a good time to talk?"

Chloe visibly tensed. Set her bottle down. "Ah. Did…uh…Sophie say something?"

Max thought her phrasing was odd. "Yeah. You know Soph."

Chloe looked off to the horizon. "Yeah." After a minute, "How much did she tell you?"

Max put it together. _Oh._ "Nothing?"

"Okay, um. I'll just blurt it. I've been keeping it to myself for a while, I guess, hoping I'd get a better handle on things. But I'm not. Everybody's got their shit to deal with I've been so afraid of letting everybody down. You down, especially…"

Max met her eyes. "Never."

Chloe shrugged. "Obviously, I've tangled myself up in the whole post-S4 thing and there was my alien freakout and all that."

"I know, hon. And I'm here as often as you need an ear. Or if there's anything else you need. Whatever. You know it's okay. Shit's not normal for anyone. And there's no right or wrong way to navigate."

"That's not it though." She slumped. "I mean, it is. It's not helping things."

Max, concerned, "What is it?"

Chloe crossed her legs, slouched forward, elbows on her knees. After a delay, "This is gonna sound weird, but - I don't know what I'm doing, Max. Not really. I don't even think I know who I am for sure."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm…having trouble. I don't mean to be all cry-for-helpy or looking for sympathy or playing drama shit - you know? It's just that - I have an uncomfortably precise sense of self-awareness since the upgrades - and…truth is, sometimes I feel like maybe it should have been her here. Not just with you, but saving all of them. And other times, I feel like maybe it already is. And that bothers me too."

Max reached out. "Chloe." _No, baby._

"No listen, I'm trying to keep it together. And I mostly do. Like I go through these long periods where I don't even question it. I just go, and it's fine. But then there are other times, where it's harder. Like now. And the upgrades, you know they help me be faster, stronger, give me access to more info, get me more places outside my head, but that's part of the problem too. I can logic the hell out of everything, but I still feel what I feel, and the upgrade layer doesn't play there. Not really. And like even all this wetware and the bots and the bio and synthetic reconstructions themselves - even moving shit with my mind - it's me, but not _mine_ , you know? I didn't make any of this. Didn't think it up. And…I didn't do anything to earn it."

"Chlo…it was an incredible gift. A huge head start. We didn't build any of the roads or plant our own coffee beans…but we use them. It's all just shared infrastructure?"

"Yeah, but fuck, dude. This is way more than that - and legit - it scares the hell out of me sometimes. For reals. Trust me - you don't know what it's like to wake up and hear your brain talking to itself in a language you barely understand. I don't know what to do with that. And when I'm outside my head, distributed, sometimes I almost think I'm like someone else, out in those moments where I can get so lost in it. It's so easy to get lost, or disconnected, dissociated, maybe? And it's so goddamn tempting to go with it. Let time stand still forever."

"Been there."

"I'm sure. But for me, that's when I start to think that I might go that final step. To try to keep up. Do my part. Keep my head above water. Be more? But, it's like I don't know what's left of me if I do that? You know? Are emotions artificial too at that point? Like, I'd rather die than lose most of what I feel - especially for you. Can't. Like, and if I do make that leap - where do I end and the machine begins? And is it me deciding to do it, since I'm part way there already? Or is it bits of her pushing from inside? And if the end is all synthetic, and if that's her, right? And that's what she is? And if I become that, then is that maybe the right thing to do? Step aside? Cause that's gonna be her now. Isn't it? And she's way more qualified for this shit anyway. And maybe that's good. Stakes this high? And when I'm feeling like this, I sometimes think…I think you deserve a better partner." Chloe's voice broke. "I'm sorry, I…"

Max felt Chloe's hurt in her own heart. She pulled back on her agenda to share. _She needs all the support right now. I'm not gonna throw more crap on her plate. Wrong time. Wrong topics that will probably make everything worse. We'll come back to it, but this has to be about her today._ "Sweetie…"

"I know, Max. I don't know how to do this. I can't always feel the line. Where I end, where it starts. There's the core, and access to outside stuff that's one kind of thing - communications and information, and that's great, but when it comes to myself, this 'me' isn't even me anymore. Tech aside, my biology is changed, and I don't know if that's part of it too. The physical upgrades are great, but I wonder sometimes if I made a mistake playing with nerve bandwidth and changing my brain around and...it's fuckin' great that I can doubt myself at the speed of light instead of the speed of sound now, but…no. It isn't."

Max held Chloe's hand. Listened.

"And if I keep tinkering, will I even know the difference if I - the 'me' looking out through these synthetic eyes - stop existing? Can consciousness even carry over to all new hardware? Can it?"

Max, curious, "How many atoms change in a person over a normal lifetime? Is anyone made of exactly the same stuff they started out with? Is it the specific atoms themselves, the materials, that make us 'us', or is it the pattern? Just asking. For a friend…"

Chloe shrugged. Squeezed Max's hand, acknowledging her attempt. "Is that what it's like? Am I worried about nothing here? That's what I want. But, what if…am I fucking up and replacing some essential parts of me, a piece at a time until there's nothing of the real me left? Who was she when she sent this back? What would I be then? Me? Or the machine who slowly killed me, and only thinks she's me?"

Max flinched.

Chloe took Max's hand in both of hers. "Max - I'm sorry I'm sorry - I swear to fucking god I didn't mean it like that."

"I know you didn't." Max turned the thought aside. Back to Chloe. "No one is asking you to do anything, baby. You're the one in control. Only you."

"Am I? I'm not so sure. It's like I've been given these amazing gifts, if involuntarily - like some artificial juiced-up Frankenstein mashup of telekinesis and god-tech. But now I have this _amazing_ life, with you, and it's everything to me, and there are these impossible dangers and responsibilities… And in the times when I'm not terrified out of my mind, I don't always feel connected to any of it. Like I know it's real and all. But it's almost like I'm a kid, sitting in the back seat again. Looking out through my eyes while someone else drives. Except they're not even really my eyes anymore, are they? And sometimes I think maybe that would be okay. Go to sleep. Just let her, or it, or whatever, drive. I know how chickenshit that all sounds, but I know I didn't earn any of this. I don't know if I deserve any of this. And even if everything else is fine, I don't know if I can live up to this. Like you know I've always wanted to be some kind of badass, which was stupid, ridiculous posturing, but now that I really can, I don't feel it, cause I know it's not me doing it. It's her. And swear, I'm not ungrateful - I love you - and what we're doing - but this is a redo, and I'm not her and, sometimes it's too much and…I don't know if I can hang with this."

Max pushed their food aside, scooted over to put her arms around Chloe. Kissed her on her cheek. Brows knit. "First, I'm glad we're talking. Even if I don't have answers, love. But I'm here. And I love you. _You._ And maybe that's your thing to carry. Keep moving forward despite your fears. Doubts. I think everyone has them. I know I do. But you try to do the very best you can, because it matters, and we really can try to help. But that's all it is - that's all anyone can ask. You know? That we try?"

"No, I know." Chloe's head hung down. "I get super fucking overwhelmed sometimes. I'm such a wimp. But there's so much noise. And I can't show it. Not when so many people are looking to us…and then, the part of me that knows I could keep up if I changed myself just a little bit more - traded some new part of the real me for something better, it's almost addictive - but I don't know if I trust that part of me that's saying that's good anymore. I honestly don't know."

Max rubbed her back. "You're not alone, Chlo. I mean, I'm no stranger to being pulled in multiple directions, unsure of who I am. Who I want to be. You were there. I realize it's gotta be very different for you. Um. I'm gonna take a swing at this anyway. Because, I learned a sports metaphor, and that was it, and I do relate to some of this. I can also be full of shit. So, you know. Filter. Mileage."

Chloe nodded. Leaned her head against Max.

"Reality is that you ARE Chloe Price. And so is she. That's my fault. When I jumped back, I split the universe in two. And that moment, that instant where the split happened is the exact point where you two diverged. Along with our worlds, and everything else. You had the same beginning though. And your life, your identity, your existence, was shared, not just similar - it was the same one. And in the other timeline, it's also two and a half years later, right now, just like here. Future is still out that way somewhere for both our universes. That one's gonna run the way it did, and we're charting this one. And we got none of this, right here, going on over there. You have her memories. You know. We were in a crappy apartment, barely keeping our shit together. But we had each other. 'Member? We were leaning into each other so hard for support that it was the only thing keeping either of us from faceplanting."

Chloe smirked. "Yeah. So, what, right now, you're over there with her too?"

"Yeah. The past me. Jumped, remember. But to them, it's now too, so yes.

"You're the genius. Think about it. You're obviously not the same person now. You got some serious gifts very early on. She's got none of that right now and has all of her own struggles to deal with. And that's gonna be true for a while. She won't even think about any of this for centuries. Where will YOU be centuries from now? In your timeline? Where will _we_ be? That's up to us. I don't know much. But I know that OtherChloe - and…Nuria - gave you a tremendous _head-start._ They didn't do it to subvert you. They did it to give you an edge. A fucking sharp one. And it's all up to you, what you wanna swing it at. And if you don't want to, that's okay too."

Chloe stared at her shoes.

"In a fraction of the time it took OtherChloe to deal with our shit, to think up, evolve, and finally send you this…gift - this starter kit - you're gonna do so much more with it. That's gonna be all you. And I'm sorry. You've taken on this role, and you're so good at it, that I sometimes forget how new you are to all of this. _You_ , you, I mean. I forget that only a few years ago, high school was a real thing for you. You've got her memories, but you've been so fantastic at dealing with all of this, and owning it and making your own way.

"But I have to remind myself - and maybe you, too - that you're still just a baby right now, Chlo. You're in this nest figuring out where you end and how things work, and like what are these things on your back, and why is there all this straw… But…baby…those are wings - and we can _fly_. And I don't only mean that like a metaphor. I mean we can _actually fucking fly_. And don't believe for a second that I don't have trouble wrapping my brain around _that_ , even after all this time."

Chloe, head still down, gave her a sideways look. Shook her head with a small laugh.

"So no. You're not OtherChloe. You're not. You started out as the same person though. You did. The core Chloe is still you. If you switched universes with her at the moment I crashed in, you would have been her. 100%. Time and events shaped you different, and will take you different places, but this branch, this set of starting circumstances - and all of time ahead - this is yours. No one else's. You're the driver in there. Even choosing not to drive is your decision. And it's okay."

Max thought back to her conversation with Sophie and Hector. _Repeating patterns..._ It gave her a direction.

"Chloe, this is who you are. Even if you're both the real you. I don't know. Maybe, it's like there's only one core Chloe Price - and all the rest is just…wave interference, spread across universes. You're both expressions of the same underlying awesome, beautiful, badass truth."

Chloe looked up. Turned to Max. "You did _not_ just respond to my total-flame-out existential crisis with a quantum hand-wave."

"Uh, maybe I kinda did? When you put it like that? Sorry. I suck."

"No. No - I'm kindof impressed, actually. It helps. You know - _and_ you suck." Chloe cracked a smile.

"You suck." Max gave her a playful shove. "I don't know Chlo. I get pulled around sometimes too. Pretty hard. But I always know I'm the person I want to be when I'm with you."

"Aww. Snarf?" Chloe squinted, teared up.

"It's not easy being green. I get it. I don't know if it's ever been easy for anyone to be anything. But Chlo, I hope you know - more than anything - that one thing you're not, not ever ever ever, is _alone_."

"I do. And…sorry…for ruining our adventure," Chloe moped.

"Shut up. You know that's not true. You're an adventure. " Max pulled her closer. Wrapped her arms tight. "Sorry, I'm not much help. But I'm here. And I'm thankful you said something."

"Meh. You had to pull it out of me. Didn't seem like there was ever a good time. Sophie's been trying to listen, but…I think she has trouble with me sometimes. Understanding the more beep-boop parts, you know? She's been after me to share with you."

"She's usually right. That one. We're a team, Chlo. I think it's always gonna be a process, for reals. All of this. But we got each other. Just like the versions of us propping each other up in T-0 about right now - I don't know that there's ever been a way to do this, other than together."

Chloe rocked back. "Thanks. For not thinking I'm lame or whatever."

" _Now_ you're being stupid." Max pushed her. Pulled her back, "You're my hero."

Chloe scooted. Leaned her head on Max's shoulder. "And you know, if there's every anything you ever want or need to talk about, I'm here for you too. You don't always have to go running off. I'm not blind. I can listen."

Max leaned too. "Yeah. I know. I'm good for right now. But you'll be the first to know. Second. Maybe third."

Chloe reached, threw an apple chip at Max. Missed.

"Come on." Max kissed her. "We've got almost three days of potential shenanigans ahead of us. Any requests? Chill for a while, or?"

Chloe took a moment to think about it. "This is nice. But would it be possible, to maybe…later, go for a little joyride out there? Like you do? Among the stars?"

"You're a star." Max nodded, squeezed her hard. "And you got it. All the heavens are yours, forever and ever."

Somewhere up the hill, a leafy green something trundled toward them.

* * *

 **Jillian** 's phone buzzed at 5:33 AM. She was in the hallway, outside the front door to her high-rise condo, back from an early run to the gym and grocery store. She scrambled for keys, unlocked her door, set the bags on the marble kitchen counter.

A text. One of MCCP's media interns. She saw the beginnings of the news headline. Felt a quick flash of anger.

She opened the link, scanning as she re-dialed the office on another phone.

"Goddammit."

* * *

 **Inside the Doomsday Cult of MCCP Corp.**

First in a special investigative report examining a modern conspiracy of faith, fraud, and guns for hire

 _Introduction by Patricia Tanner, Ed., with Elliot Portnoi and Juliet Watson_

February 15, 2016 8:32a.m. ET

NEW YORK — Since its incorporation more than two and a half years ago, MCCP has captivated the technical and pop-scientific enthusiast communities with its promises of transformative discoveries, inventions, and achievements. The kind of hopeful advances that hold profound implications for a brighter, more egalitarian tomorrow.

Headquartered in the blistering Nevada desert, and boasting sizable offices in dozens of countries around the world, the organization employs more than ten-thousand professionals and specialists in many of our most important fields of modern endeavor.

A liminal space, alive with people and energy, the ground floor lobby of the startup's sprawling Las Vegas campus is ringed by gleaming, multi-story walls of clear glass. Beyond the open doors are comfortable waiting areas, lush plants and an abundance of natural desert light. Its center is anchored by a larger-than-life, high-tech wraparound video wall, streaming a breathtaking real-time view of our Earth, as seen by satellites out in space.

The messages, promises, are sculpted in the welcoming architecture. They are carried outward in a near-constant stream of shared research, development and scientific and humanitarian advancements. Openness. Transparency. Hope for a better, more inclusive future for all of us.

But like a piece of cheese on a spring, the promise is both lure and trap. A terrible and dangerous lie.

Inside the facility, underground, private armies train with advanced weaponry for an undisclosed purpose. Above, entire floors of unlicensed, unregulated 'scientists' experiment with nuclear and biological weapons of mass destruction. While otherwise intelligent 'employees' look to their leaders with an unquestioning religious fervor, believing the bombastic corporate mythology that they are all of a chosen few, who will build a new utopia beyond the fast-approaching end-times of our world.

This serves as the introduction to our investigative editorial series examining the hard-fought truths, belligerent falsehoods, and as yet unanswered questions about MCCP. We explore its murky, potentially criminal foundations, its capitalization, its flawed and dangerous 'inventions,' the magnetic draw of its charismatic young leaders, and the global, militarized reach of their secret doomsday agenda.

We at the Journal believe in traditional religious freedoms. Faith, hope, are the most human of traits. Many of us carry an innate need to feel that there's more to it all than merely ourselves. We all want to believe that things will be better for us, and those we cherish, somewhere up ahead. But as we've seen time and again throughout our shared and often bloody histories, our human programming can be too easily hijacked. Our hopeful nature cynically manipulated and turned against our better interests.

Only openness and transparency can inoculate us from charismatic lies, secret agendas and the dangers lurking in the darkness they bring. Faith doesn't need an army if its truths and intentions are self-evidently good and right and just.

As reporters, we have a responsibility to the public we serve. This has often been interpreted as giving equal time to 'both sides' of a story, remaining objective, dispassionate observers. But not every story has two sides. When the application of objectivity for its own sake gives an unintended veneer of legitimacy to those who would do significant harm to others, we have to step back and re-examine the purpose behind our methods and our policies. In light of the truths our investigations reveal, we have no choice but to take a position. Shine a light. Expose the secrets, possible criminal conspiracies, ongoing negligence, and the truths behind the beautiful lie of MCCP and its enigmatic young founders.

Through this series, we encourage others, our peers at other publications around the world, bloggers, concerned citizens, to join our conversation online, over the air and in print - dig and examine as we have. Ask the hard questions we haven't.

We also ask that local, state and federal investigators, law enforcement and regulators take their responsibilities to law and public safety more seriously and that they begin to take action. We ask the same introspection of customers, partners and enabling suppliers of MCCP. And we urge any insiders who may have been swept up, who may hold information but have been too afraid to speak out, please, come forward. We would hear and share your stories.

This series is editorial.

But the facts remain objective.

 _~ Veritas liberabit vos ~_

-Ed.

— _Part one, our exclusive and damning interview with MCCP founder Max Caulfield, begins today on page A2._

 _Tomorrow, we'll speak with a host of international nuclear engineering and energy leaders, exploring their independent analysis' of the flaws behind the inevitable radiological dangers of MCCPs snake-oil fusion reactor designs. As well as expert speculation about why they've been so brazenly and openly unleashed on an unsuspecting public, and actively promoted as a panacea to the neediest, if least sophisticated, nations._

 _Continuing later in the week, we'll consult with psychologists and de-programming psychiatrists who have come to believe that our darling Alena, America's littlest hero, is in truth a victim of religious reprogramming - advanced brainwashing that compelled her to walk headlong into a hail of deadly bullets last New Year's Eve. An action that could easily have led to a terrible sacrifice of her young life - all to protect organization leader Chloe Price during this year's terrifying attacks._

 _Other upcoming stories in this series will be announced as the week progresses. They will be part of an ongoing, interactive dialog. We invite you to participate._

 _Like us on Facebook / Share this article on Twitter / Post to Reddit_


	17. Arcus

**Chloe** pulled the door to _Casa de Steve_ closed behind her, followed Max to a spot in the smushy moss, off the front deck. The low mist swirled in her wake.

One of their moons drifted over the sea; the other soared high above them. Both showed curious crescent patterns, sequenced layers of bright tinted lines and shadowy overlaps. Interfering twilight zones. Gave Max just enough light to make her way ahead without stumbling.

Chloe counted the abundance of critters studying them from the fields and forest. Noted a few leafy wandering somethings taking station on the ocean side. New migrants to the grounds.

Max made a disappointed sound, turned, started back. "Did we turn off the coffee pot?"

Chloe slipped her hand into Max's as she passed, pivoted, redirecting her back to where she started. "It's off. I checked."

Max crossed her arms. "Did you lock the door on your way out?"

Chloe, hands in her pockets, "Aren't you the same girl who said if interstellar burglars ever made it this far, they probably deserved whatever they could carry?"

Max fought back a smile.

"We could go buy locks if it'll make you feel better." Chloe shrugged.

"No, it's okay. I'm sure it'll be fine. Unless some of our critters get curious."

Chloe responded with her best mock-horror voice. "Or thumbs? Oh my god! What if we come back and they _all_ have thumbs? And they're inside our house!? With _all their thumbs!?"_ Silliness.

Max gave her The Look, with a slight shake of her head. Started toward the door again. "You sure you checked the coffee pot?"

Chloe stood her ground. "Max." Hands on her hips.

Max stopped short. "Kidding. Stalling, maybe." Pouted, "I don't want to go back yet. Is that bad?"

Chloe walked her backward, off the deck. "Nah. Come on, human."

"I'm happy we did this, even if it's short. Think we both needed it."

Chloe reconsidered, took Max's hand, pulled her toward the house again. "Well, I mean, if you're serious about not wanting to go yet, we _could_ stay. Take a month, hang out, clothing optional, maybe engage in some of 'the sex' all the trendy kids are talking about?"

Max batted her eyes at Chloe. "Tempting. I can jump back after, bring you a cube…"

"It'll be like Total Recall, but like, the porn version, and with less shooting and stuff." Chloe stopped halfway to the door, swung Max's arms.

"I thought you liked the shooting and stuff?"

"When I could miss. Back to Monday's picnic convo…"

"Yeah. Well. Paper zombie hordes have never been so terrified." Max pushed Chloe doorward.

Chloe considered for a moment. Almost to the door. Resisted. "Hmmm. But…yeah - give it another few years. Never know. Might be a market for cubic-recall-porn?" She rooted in place. Resigned. "But for real, fun as it would be, we prolly should, you know, head back to the world? Our people need us?"

Max leaned into her. "Nice U-turn to that cube topic. And yeah. I guess. Sigh. Okay. Fine. Enough. Gotta go back to work sometime. Uh. Here we go. This is us. …leaving. Meh." She slumped.

Chloe held her up. "Come on, Sprout. Somebody's gotta be the strong one here." Chloe slipped past Max, pulling toward the front moss. "What if we took a last little detour on the way back?"

Max gave in, returned to the smush. "I vote you. And yeah. That could be cool. Long way home? Ehn.…buh-bye, Steve! Keep an eye on…well…yourself for us, I guess."

Chloe slid in behind her, one arm around her waist, the other diagonally across her chest. Rested her chin on her hand, both on Max's shoulder. "Long way home."

"We're pretty close, all things considered. It's an amazing view though, huh?"

"Yeah…"

The ground dropped as Max took them up into the night. Chloe felt a slight flutter in her belly. Breeze. Held on, but only lightly. She was in Max's frame of reference, so didn't experience gravity or acceleration - beyond the visible. Floaty, if anything.

The tight curve of their world closed on itself after only a few seconds. Max bubbled before leaving the atmosphere. A few more seconds and they exited the shadow of Steve, joined the bright light of their three sister-stars.

Chloe looked back. From here, it was apparent how different their adopted world was from home. Half sparkling seas, with most of the rest rendered in shades of greens and crimson. Much smaller patches of desert, with no polar ice-caps to speak of. The blue edge-line of its atmosphere appeared wider, a contrast further amplified by its smaller diameter. Steve's clouds were taller. Faster. Overall impression was of a multi-colored jewel hanging in the black. Beautiful. But so tiny. Its fragility already tragically proven once before. "Be safe," Chloe whispered.

Returned her chin to Max's shoulder.

They passed the highest moon. It fell behind with the rest. Chloe glanced a final time. Their stars, their world, grew smaller, closer together in retreat.

"Here. Come in beside me? Sidecar?" Max offered.

Chloe let go with one arm, moved to her side. Held one arm around Max's waist.

"You be navigator, gator." Max made eye contact, gestured ahead. "Know where we are?"

"Here." Chloe projected a star-chart around them. "Only a few hundred light-years, give or take." She marked their position with one dot, Sol with another. "Stay inside the arm, and head down to get home."

Max smiled. "Or up. Okay. Good. Now, think of me as your adoring spaceship - you point, I go. You can speed me up or slow me down—"

"I'm good at that." Chloe gave her hip a playful squeeze.

Max giggled. "Yes, yes you are. As you so helpfully reminded me this morning. But…for serious now. Maybe…let's see…you can turn my hand this way for faster, that way for slower?"

Chloe applied gentle pressure. "Max Caulfield is a joystick. I'm _so_ telling everyone when we get back."

Max returned her squeeze. "You're flirty today. We should do this vacation thing more often." She took them into a lazy barrel roll.

Chloe, puzzled, "We're always flirty?"

Max nodded. "No, I know. But you're _also_ flirty _today_. You know, _and_ we should do this vacation thing more often."

Chloe shrugged. "I accept that." Looked out, ahead, to the wall of stars.

"Ok. You get the idea. Where to, Cap' Chloe?"

Chloe traced potential paths. "Straight line takes us that way. We'd pass a few hundred star systems, which would be pretty cool to see. But I want to go… _here._ " She zoomed way out, drew a long line up, off the plane of the Milky Way by half its diameter, then back down near where the line began. "If it's not, you know, too much trouble?"

"You wanna leave, see the whole thing, huh?"

"Just…fuck yeah! No one ever has - besides you, I guess. We always fold everywhere, which is fast, but not very scenic. I wanna go! Without any light pollution, just us. I wanna feel the galaxy drop away from us like a…big…thingie…dropping away from us. But not so far that we can't still see our home systems, you know?"

Max chuckled. "Eloquent Bear is eloquent. You have to tell me when then. You see more than I can through my plain old peepers. I'm a little jealous of your multi-spectral whatsits."

"Could always trade? I'm more than a little jealous of your warp drive. And…you're a multi-spectral whatsits." Chloe smiled, nibbled Max's ear. Whispered, "You forget, babe - I can project. Here. Look."

Chloe projected against the inner wall of the bubble, cycled the holo-replica of the space around them through the full spectrum, down to the longest resolvable wavelengths of radio, bouncing back up through microwave and infra-red, visible, out to ultraviolet, x-ray and gamma. Walls of gasses, a few stars highlighted, obscured, grew opaque, then transparent again. Galaxies jumped in brightness, faded, dust visible, blocking, invisible, unblocking stellar formations inside. Pulsed back through visible with endless multi-billion pinpoints of starlight. On to the intense wash of giant stars, blowing bubbles in the gas and dust, triggering hot new waves of baby suns. The other direction, the frenetic and crowded core, just beyond the central bar. Above and below, bright pinpoint flares from other galaxies grew, faded.

Blues and reds and yellows and…

"Chlo - that's so fucking cool. See? This is why we're a team. Today, I'm the engine, and you're the eyes. Ready to play?"

Chloe collapsed the holo to one view, incorporating all of the various spectral layers into what she hoped was an artistically pleasing display; close to the composite images put out by space agencies, borrowing that common language she knew Max was familiar with. Gas, dust, stars. _There are so many._

Max raised an eyebrow. "Do we care about sleep before morning? We gonna make it back in time?"

Chloe nodded. "It's only midnight at home. We can goof around out here for a couple hours before we have to get back. If that's cool? We'd have to roll with the planet-version of jet-lag tomorrow anyway."

"Okay. Wanted to make sure. I'm _your_ spaceship." Max chuckled to herself. "It's so funny. I wanted to show you, you know, wanted you to see all of this…shine way out here like I've been seeing it, far away from home. And now here we are, and it's like, you're showing it back to me - and it's so true - you can see _so much more_. Everything is always so beautiful through your eyes."

Chloe side-eyed Max. Whispered, "True statement."

Max crossed her eyes, puffed up her cheeks, stuck out her tongue.

"Uh. …nevermind." Chloe deadpanned. Held it, giving way to a grin.

They returned attention to the space around them. From two-thirds of the way to the outer-rim, the disk was a brilliant everything-swirl, a thick, blazing ring of matter and energy, fading above and below. Filaments, sheets of dust gave depth to uncountable bright stars, massive structures hundreds, thousands of light-years across.

Chloe tugged. "We see things different, is all. And fuck, movies have this shit so wrong. No way to get this back home. I…I'd only ever _imagined_ there could be _so_ many. That the whole thing could be so bright, and goddamn colorful. It's…almost alive. So yeah. I mean, guess I can see more, but, _you're_ the one who got us out here. You're the one who makes it all real. You know? You always have."

"Aw." Max hugged her arm. "Told you before. The universe and I are your playgrounds. Where to, love?"

"Here. Aim right there." Chloe pointed up, to a quiet patch of sky. Squeezed Max's hand. Held it tight. The stars, the dark streamers, the closest arms of galaxy flew by as they raced silently between. Backgrounds became gigantic three-dimensional structures. The disk itself finally dropped away. The galactic core nearly blinded them as they shot above the edge, beyond its obscuring veils of dust.

Chloe's breath caught in her throat at the sheer enormity, the…reality - it was such an alien view, so near, immediate, utterly massive. The central bulge was far taller than she'd expected…seeing in every wavelength at once, her mind had trouble, the scale, eyes wide, but it still filled more than half of everything. Not stars, not systems, but the _whole entire galaxy_.

The details…a billion pinpricks of hard light.

Each bright point, a star.

So crystal clear. Sharp. Independent. But moving together as one.

Chloe's words came slowly. "I had a picture in my head. Before. But I didn't expect it to be so…physical, I guess?"

It was all right there. The connected structures, the wave-definition between the arms, the brightness - but also the bound interconnections, the flow. Half a dozen captured galaxies sharing the edges. Everything where it should be. If Chloe only reached out, she could have touched it. So close. Close as furniture. Two-hundred-billion points of light. _Incredible depths._

The galaxy tilted down, away.

Max moved them at impossible speed.

A small, instinctive part of Chloe marveled at the lack of blue and red-shift. While a much older region calculated and catalogued the optical effects of various warp bubble oscillations around them. She had a keen awareness of the mechanics, if not the raw energy available to replicate the bubbles herself.

They ascended far above the edge of a swirling pool of infinite light, outshining anything she'd ever imagined.

 _There are no words for this…_

Max giggled softly at her side.

Like they were kids.

She slowed, held them at the apex. Rotated them slowly above the whirlpool.

Quiet. Content to see. Feel.

Side by side in a bubble of air, holding hands, silhouetted against the bright spirals of their home galaxy.

Chloe's mind raced. No thrash of chaos, no noise out here.

Instead, peaceful. Harmonious.

Thoughts swimming in the same direction.

Racing still.

After what might have been minutes, or could have been hours, Chloe found a few measured words. "You know. Every time I doubt myself - every time - I see you, and you go and do something so incredible, so…effortless, that reminds me it doesn't even…it's all gonna be okay."

Max squeezed her hand. Whispered, "Chloe. Course it is. Promise. When we have doubts, it's okay, I think. Whatever. It's…we just don't know how we get there yet, is all. But we will. Together. And it _will_ be okay in the end. It has to be. I just know it."

After a few more minutes of quiet contemplation of their place in the cosmos, Chloe whispered back, "I know you. And…I don't doubt, you know? Not…never _you_. I forget, sometimes…but…still, I don't think it's hit me, babe. Not since Africa…looking up…but maybe not even until just now - how _mind-blowingly powerful you are_. I get too used to the small day-to-day stuff, but I mean, watching you navigate, manipulate, at this scale…when I know what kind of energy it takes…this…I don't know. Different perspective. Reminder. I've always teased that you were practically a god, and I've known, you know…but I don't think I've fully internalized how for-all-intents-and-purposes that might be.

"And with all this…overwhelming, industrialized planet-murdery bullshit going on out there, and the total fucking insignificance of Earth and _me_ in the face of any of it and…and then there's you. My Max.

"And it's kinda like the whole wide world is like this baby bird that's falling out of its nest. And even though other birds have fallen out of their nests before, you're right there when this one does. And you being you, you can't help but catch it. Nurse it back to health. Keep it safe from predators. That's what you are for us. For me. And even with everything you carry, all that weight, you still go out of your way to make sure I feel safe in the middle of it."

After a minute, "Yeah."

Max pulled herself in front of Chloe, wrapped her arms around her, blocking her view of the Milky Way. Forehead to forehead, kissed her lips softly. "But we're a team effort Chlo. Don't ever sell yourself short. We take turns. Compliment. Always have. Using your same analogy, you're the one who figures out how to repair the nest, so it's impossible to fall out of. Sets up turrets and lasers and fire-shark-guns and stuff. Then learns bird-language so you can teach other bird parents in the forest, send out baby-bird jet-packs, and deploy hover-nets and…"

Chloe rolled her eyes.

Max continued. "You know what I mean. I can't do this without you either, Chlo. I don't wanna. I don't tell you enough how much I admire _you_. For being my partner in this, for thriving under these stupid, ridiculous pressures. For keeping me laughing. Every day. For keeping everyone going, for the late nights and early mornings and sarcasm and snark and coffee and so much more love than one person could ever deserve. I don't tell you enough how thankful I am, how fantastically lucky I am to have you. _You_. Here. Now. Whenever I have doubts of my own, I see you, and everything's clear again. I love you, Chlo. You're my universe. You know that, right?"

 _Always know what to say…_ Chloe, lips touching Max's, breathed, "Mine too."

Chloe closed her eyes, returned Max's kiss, little space left between them.

* * *

 **Max** startled awake, heart racing, a little sick to her stomach. Not yet light outside. Too early. Chloe's warm, naked back against her. Must have fallen asleep watching the lights downtown. Max caught up to where they were. Rolled. Distracted, her eyes traced the curve of Chloe's neck, shoulder. She smelled like Chloe.

It was hard to come back down to earth. Harder still to fall asleep after.

Chloe said it was the best therapy ever.

 _Right call._

A dark half-whisper shattered the moment. _"You're not one of ours."_

Max shot bolt upright, shedding her bedcovers. A large shadow of a man loomed over the foot of their bed. She froze everything. But there was nothing, no-one there. Looked more closely.

Got out of bed, walked to where he must have been.

Might have been?

Awake now.

 _Shit._

Her view of the strip was unobstructed.

She rewound slowly, deliberately.

Nothing between.

Only air. Lights.

Cautious, she let out a breath. Relaxed. Let time flow.

She caught herself. Where the outline of a man had been, where _nothing_ had been, a woman. A reach away. Long, dark, curly hair. She was middle-aged. Studied Max. Unthreatening brown eyes met hers, expression neutral in the dim. The woman, puzzled, whispered, _"Where do you go?"_

Max froze the world again.

The woman vanished when the freeze came.

Nothing.

 _Okay. Seriously - what the fuck?_

Switched sides, rewound, restarted time, ready to grab whoever, but - there was only Max.

Chloe slowly pushed herself up on one arm. "Mmph. Doll?"

Must have felt the Max-shaped dimple in the mattress snap back with the last rewind.

Max felt the edge in her voice. "Chloe - get up!"

Chloe, half speed, "Ehnn. We just got here. What's up? …not time for another two hours."

 _Wake up! Chloe!_

Max, under her breath, "Fiat lux." Their suite burst into a bright blue-white, as every bulb spread across the top two floors of all three wings came to life at once. It was funny when Chloe set it up.

No shadows, no hiding places.

Max checked Emo's drawer. _Still at Sophie's._

Chloe was out of bed, squinting hard, uncertain, but didn't seem alarmed. "Uh, Max? What's the what, dude? Why are you up?"

"Somebody was here, Chloe. Two people, one after the other. Or…during the other, I guess? Maybe fast teleporty peeps or—"

Chloe closed her eyes, a diffuse blue pulsed behind her lids, checking. Checked. Shook her head slowly. "I don't see anything, Max. I've got us sleeping, then you woke up, from a dream maybe? Then you rez'd in at the foot of the bed, then again on the other side. But there's only you…"

"Are you sure, Chloe? They were there. Swear it. Disappeared when I hit pause."

Chloe closed one eye, rubbed her head. "Okay, that…seems super unlikely…could anyone possibly time that? I've got you in real-time, clear as day, but…sorry - there's nobody here but us. Is it…possible you had a bad dream, and like maybe weren't all the way awake yet?"

Max checked the bathroom, the closet. Under the bed. As useless as she knew it would be, it made part of her feel better. She wasn't anxious so much as confused. Chloe wasn't helping. Or, maybe she was a little too calm and a little too reasonable - which annoyed Max more than she thought it might. Like she wasn't taking her seriously. _I saw them!_ _They were right here!_ "I don't know, Chlo. Yeah, maybe. But this felt really real. One of them said something like I wasn't theirs? Other one asked a question. Asked where I went or something? But you…yeah, I guess I rewound behind that dude, so you won't…there won't be anything for you to see. But you should see the woman who took his place? Unless - shit - I rewound through her too. And they didn't come back. _Dammit._ "

"Max. Slow down. Does any of that that make sense?" Chloe got out of bed, played back a full-scale holo of the past few minutes, overlaid on the room along with a callout displaying Max's vitals.

"Not that I don't believe you saw _something_ , but from outside, it looks like you woke up from a nightmare. See your heart-rate spike there? Before you even opened your eyes. Might have carried over into waking. It's common enough they have a word for it. Hypnopompic hallucinations."

Room sweep done, Max met Chloe at the foot of their bed. "You just looked that up. And you're a…pompy…hypno-toad."

Chloe responded automatically. "ALL GLORY TO THE HYPNO-TOAD!"

Max shrugged. "All of it. So much glory. And…sorry. Yeah, maybe. I dunno. Might be that, or it could maybe be something super-fucky?"

Chloe sat at the foot of the bed, "Thanks for rollin'. I'm not sure why I…anyway, I'm betting it's not teleporters or anything physical - near-zero-probability for so many reasons, and they'd have shown up in the data anyway - or would have shown up again after you rejoined us. Cause people don't suddenly change - or deviate course _on their own_ when you rewind. True?"

"…yeah," Max ceded.

"Which maybe leaves mindfuckery, but it can't be anything whispery, cause we've been gone, and you're still on autopilot with your defenses, right?"

"Yeah. No. I'm clear." Max flopped down next to Chloe, fell back, head poofed into the bunched-up comforter.

Chloe turned, leaning back on one arm. "I know how…well, let's say I've had my share of recreational hallucinations over the years, and I know how absolutely real they can feel. Is it _maybe_ possible that the simplest answer may be the right one here?"

Max stared at the ceiling. Sprinkler head. Dusty. _Should clean those._ She pictured them going off, water spreading that initial burst of dust everywhere. "Yeah. I guess. He…wasn't there when I hit rewind, and a person-swap makes even less sense, and vanishing in the freeze is…so…yeah. No, your version is...I'm sure that's all it was. Sorry. False alarm I guess."

Chloe crossed her arms. "It's cool. What I do. Voice of reason for naked inter-dimensional space-goddesses who wake me up in the wee hours seeing shit that isn't there." Chloe launched a pillow at Max with her brain.

Max caught it overhead in a bubble, rotated. "Brat." Tossed it back. Touched her hand to Chloe's back. "And sorry for the harsh lights. But, you know, thanks for checking for me? And yeah…for playing the voice of reason too. It's prolly like you said. Just a whatever-thing. Let's, um, go back to bed?"

"Plan."

"Plan. _…hello darkness._ " The lights obeyed.

Chloe got up, walked to her side of the bed, climbed back under covers. "Come. In. Lazy cuddle party. Few more hours at least?"

Max scooted up the bed, crawled in beside her, pulled the covers over. Too awake to sleep, she rested her eyes, little-spooning as Chloe drifted off.

* * *

 **Chloe** jerked the left paddle, downshifting to first as she accelerated through the corner. Pushed hard up the ramp onto the freeway. Kept going. North. The deep thrum of the engine rose in time with the exhaust, pushed the vibrations up her spine.

"It's total _fucking_ bullshit!" she projected into their comms.

Max was at her desk upstairs, on holo. First coffee of the morning, bed-head. "No, Chloe's right. It's not even that I'm quoted out of context - the interview they printed doesn't resemble the conversation we had, like, at all. It's complete fabrication. And these other stories since…" She squinted, shook her head. "…none of this feels like Juliet. She wouldn't—"

"People change." Jillian was on camera, at the head of a full conference table, at the back of a bustling ops floor she'd assembled into a war room days before. "And if it sticks, it'll make her career. Look, the lowercase 'truth' doesn't matter. Once these kinds of accusations are thrown out loud, with authority, they take a life of their own. Our mystery works for them now. In a post-truth world, it's a perception game. And we're flat on our asses."

"So, _truth doesn't matter?_ That's…we give up?" Max asked.

Chloe shifted. _Beat me to it._

" _How much truth?_ " asked Jillian, irritated. Backtracked. "It matters, of course. What I mean is, the fact of a different 'small' truth doesn't help us win the battle for public sentiment. Everything's equivalent out there. We have almost nothing to fall back on, and aside from you two, we don't have a lot to work forward with.

"The level of disclosure that would shut this down, three days in, isn't for public consumption. _Unless you decide to change that_ , anything short of the Journal publishing a full retraction and statement of fabrication is going to end with an ongoing _he-said, she-said_. Doesn't help that it snowballed to tabloid-global while you two were away. Everybody loves a goddamn fall. You're catching up, but you've at least seen the raw clip count, social volumes, sentiment analysis? It's not good."

Chloe absorbed what was available. "64. Down from 97. Why didn't we see this coming?"

"Can't speak for the precogs," Jillian shrugged. "Blind-spot, maybe? We could have headed this off a year ago with the right green lights. Figured some of that was finally sinking in; it's why I was almost thrilled that Max agreed to do an interview. Any interview. We expected a missed quote or maybe something mildly unflattering from it, but not this. The unpredictable is sometimes…unpredictable. But at the highest level, this wasn't entirely unpredictable."

Chloe blew past a Prius, a little too close for the other driver's comfort, judging by his expressive 'greeting' fading in her rear-view. "Why didn't we respond when it first broke? Why wait and let it take off?"

Jillian demurred. "With you guys unreachable, and all these guardrails around what's public, I made the call to play it close. 'Til you got back - with the firm assumption our timeline might go fluid one way or another."

"Okay, but no response at all? I'm no genius, but…" Chloe caught herself before she could complete the lie.

"And say what, Chloe? Yes, as it turns out, we do have hundreds of weaponized viruses more-or-less lying around on the 16th floor? Largest and most diverse concentration of biological WMDs on earth? Strains we've managed to beg, buy or steal from secret labs spread across half the nations on earth? No import clearance, no CDC oversight, no federal oversight, inspections or controls. _Why_ do we have them? Oh. You know. Because we're letting our hive-minded microscopic hyper-dimensional nanites from the future train themselves to recognize the viruses, understand their lifecycles and come up with methods for destroying them and clearing out genetic debris while leaving the host cells unharmed. Because we know when the shit hits the bio-warfare fan they'll wipe out hundreds of millions, maybe even billions of lives. No, that happened in a different reality, but…

"Respond like that, you mean? I had to ask about all that, by the way. Had no idea. But in that one statement alone, I've outed illegal WMD development by half the world's governments, dozens of examples of our own espionage, theft, countless violations of sovereign, national and international treaties and laws. Plus, you know, time travel, and whatever else makes us sound like crazy people. That's tip of my tongue. Think it's uncomfortable now? Just wait 'til they realize we're acting like a rogue government with our own military, space program and the rest. Nevermind you two. And that's only one data-point.

"Even without going that far, if we offered up a spokesperson for every accusation they've thrown at us, there aren't enough hours in the day. And it's certain-death in the public court, where it's all about how things look. Taken together, across cycles and story trajectories, every comment we make triggers a new twelve-hour news cycle that echoes back and forth between broadcast, print, online, with comments and social and people's reactions re-coloring the coverage. You've seen it, Chloe. It's like an echo chamber inside a feedback loop. And that doesn't work if all we have to play with is bland, nonsense corp-speak.

"Besides, with so many mistruths, each individual denial we make gives the collection of accusations increasing legitimacy as a whole. And inevitably, anything we say in that context sounds defensive.

"We could have denied them ground with even the most basic profile-building effort. We might have also had a chance to kill the narrative before it took off first thing Monday morning. Offered one of you up to one friendly publication for a single blanket denial. Ride the rest out. That would have been an okay plan. But that was three days ago. It's still possible if the reboot is on the table. It is, yes?"

Chloe pushed long slaloms through light freeway traffic at nearly 170 mph.

She streamed the ECU and vehicle sensor data in real-time, augmenting her own physical sense of the road, the engine. Traffic cameras. Chase drones plotted the route ahead. Snorted data from other cars around her. Mixed in her brain with HQ holos, video feeds, reports, the raw public opinion data. She was in a tight, annoyed bubble, and the Veyron was her second skin.

"Okay, I guess that was a reasonable call. But seriously, like, _fuck_ these guys anyway! Right in their puckery little assholes! Why are _we_ the ones arguing about this? We don't need a reboot, Jillian - let's push this shit live - _we have digital records of the actual interview_. Mic drop. Done. You're welcome." Chloe drummed the steering wheel conclusively.

One of Jillian's executives spoke up. "Mrs. Price, I'm sorry to interrupt - we have a few days head-start on you. In addition to more traditional analysis and modeling, we borrowed time with a predictive AI—"

"Algorithms," Chloe snipped.

Confused, "Sorry?"

"You said 'AI'. The class of predictive algorithms you used - they're barely strings - not even close. That's like fuckin' saying…I don't know…a few stray organic molecules floating in space are the same thing as an entire, grown person, deeply in love, in the midst of writing their master symphony, while wearing a fluffy blue bathrobe and obeying every major rule of planetary society. You…used a few loosely coupled decision chains. That's all. _Real_ artificial intelligence, _real_ artificial consciousness - those are…something else entirely."

 _Even the alpha, nearly a god. Wish I knew what they grew to become after—_

Max, tone flat, "Chloe."

Snapped her out of her peeved pedantry and her sideways reminisce.

"Sorry, Mrs. Price. I stand corrected—"

"No, no, sorry. I'm…obviously…being a dick. It's not you. Go ahead?"

"It's okay, but thank you. We uh, borrowed time with a…predictive _algorithm…_ as well as a couple of our precogs, once we saw what was unfolding. We've run scenarios, including the live data release you suggested. It wouldn't even have to come from the Journal - anyone could effectively de-position our recordings with a simple question about their legitimacy. Just the question. With all the mystery and internet nonsense about us, it's not difficult for people to imagine we have the technical capacity to synthesize a voice recording. That's enough. And they wouldn't even be wrong. Doubt is all they have to introduce for people to discount our evidence completely."

Another teammate continued, "And the trouble isn't only in the Journal anymore. In fact, with everyone else piling on with new angles and commentary everyday…sorry…that's already ten cycles and thousands of stories ago. Tens of millions of social mentions."

Chloe sped out of town, en route to S-6. Resigned. "Well. Okay. This is fucked. Max?"

Max sipped. "Obvious question, but what has Juliet said to you guys about all this? Is she—"

"Sorry. She's nowhere, Max." John spoke up from the opposite end of the conference table. Motioned above its surface, pushing holos of her local neighborhood, a few indicator dots. "Last ping from her phone was early Monday morning, down the road from her campus dorm. She hasn't been to classes, appeared on any camera feeds, no social or other electronic activity, credit cards, transit pass, pizza delivery, nothing."

"Is that even possible in New York?" Max asked.

John shook his head. "One camp says she stepped out of the public eye, sequestered, holed up somewhere. Until the Journal's able to publish everything they think they know. Not unprecedented with whistleblowers or real bombshells, but—"

"Other camp," Max stated.

"Might be in trouble. Or worse. Elephant time. If this is the opening move of a coordinated post-Wallace response, and the Journal's ownership and editorial are in on it…I don't know what that means for your friend; may depend on how much this means to them. What rules of engagement, which playbook they're running. What they think she might say on her own. You and I are familiar with that game."

Max ran her hands through her hair. "So…Juliet in the crosshairs. That doesn't work for me either."

John stressed, "It's an unknown, for now, Max. Drone's on her dorm, but it looks empty. We have a tap on her roommate. And we have a team staged mid-town. They'll head up, drop in, crack her room open later this morning. Hopefully get a read on what's happening."

Max waved a hand. "Hold, please. What about the others? That Elliot guy who was with her? The editor? How do they justify what they've written? We've been in contact?"

"Journal's EIC, Patricia Tanner, is all business as usual." An ops analyst reached into the pile of breakfast snacks on the conference table. "Left home this morning, caught her daily Uber to the office at 6:40 eastern. Stepped out the building an hour ago for her mid-morning snack-walk. Came back with a no-foam latte and a blueberry scone. Left her usual two-dollar tip. She's going through the motions, but we think she's nervous about something. Gait analysis against the last 30-days of city archive has her moving more quickly, less deliberately. Almost slipped coming out of the building. Take from that what you will. As for Elliot Portnoi…last seen blurred in the background of a tourist's Insta post, right outside his home in Portugal. But not again since Sunday."

"Huh. Okay…but has anyone tried talking to Tanner?" asked Max, eyes on her ceiling.

"On advice of counsel, no. Aside from my initial round of WTF calls, our only proactive contact with the Journal has been through legal," said Jillian. "They registered defamation complaints with the ownership, as the start of a more formal libel litigation process on Monday, but that could be a long road. Discovery won't be immediate. They're walking a tight line in their actual editorial copy, using very exact language; I'd assume their legal must have taken a pass at it before print. Might have a better chance under UK law. We both have offices there, so they're pursuing that angle as well.

"And there are so many other people reaching out to us right now, looking for comments, interviews, responses…thousands of new inbounds each day from around the world. Print, online, broadcast, bloggers, you name it. Retreading each other's stories in our absence. Our regional offices are being hammered too. Some news orgs are doing end-runs, shotgunning our employees directly over social. It's real. Nobody's taking the bait. But, Slack-pulse - everybody's pretty pissed about the coverage.

"So our judgement to this point, going at Tanner directly probably won't give any answers, but may open us up. Legal's advised against it. Journal's dead for now. We've got other, more friendly outlet options when we're ready to get our side out there in a coherent way. Assuming we keep moving forward, and not back. Backward has some compelling appeal though. Worms all the way back in the can?"

John shook his head. "We need more on these moving parts first. Is there intent, a plan? Or is it all just a fluke? Who's behind it? Specifically? What are their motivations? What's the end-game? Wish Sophie wasn't down with her migraines. Stick her in their lobby and passively scrape everything."

"Wait, what? Is she okay?" asked Max, concerned.

John nodded, "Sorry, yeah. Hector stopped by her place on his way to training this morning. He and Ari flew back commercial as soon as this mess dropped. Anyway, he dropped off food for Soph and wonderkitty. Said they were power-napping. He didn't seem worried, so I'm sure she'll be okay? You know. She gets these once or twice a year. Only be out for a couple more days."

Max made a sad face. "I remember migraines. Ugh. I hope she feels better."

"Yeah. Meanwhile, we've upped our electronic attention to NYC, with special emphasis on traffic in or out of the Journal's HQ. Plus a few lasers on the tall glass. See if there's any Them-sign. Nothing yet, but it's a long-shot they'd use phone or e-mail anyway."

Chloe chucked. "Assholes are happy to video conference though. We have header patterns - here. Just dropped in another signature. Should trip on anything new, but have our peeps re-run over the archive too. And Tanner's home lines, or whoever else going back. Might get a hit if anything's there."

"Got it. Thanks, Chloe"

Max, thinking out loud, "Okay. I'll say it. What a frikkin' mess. And not what I thought I'd be waking up to this morning. Sorry I contributed to all this extra work, guys. Easy-bake version, I rubber-band, don't do the interview at all. I mean, if it's only bullshit - and not part of a planned response - that removes the catalyst for all this and we're golden, right?"

"If," said John.

Max nodded. "Yeah. If. I can do that any time…but hate to say it, on instinct, this feels like the other thing. Not organic. These articles…I'm barely through the first two Journal pieces, but they're too broad. And also, too weirdly specific in a few places. Like they pulled bits and pieces from the real interview, mixed in some bad interpretations from our final meeting timeline with Wallace…and then spun elaborate, calculated fogs that are scary enough to raise questions, but so vague they aren't talking about anything concrete or directly defensible. Too many third party 'experts' and statements without proof, wiggle-words…opinions of randos. Obviously, close enough to a few truths that fighting it gets uncomfortable for us. Far enough to make legal work for it, apparently.

"Getting a few facts wrong, I'd totally understand. But they went out of their way to publish full-on made-up bullshit, and that pushes me strongly toward 'agenda'. But like, I don't get it. If this is their response or part of a new line of attack…it's irritating, but hardly fatal."

"Don't be so certain, Max," cautioned Jillian. "It's our reputation. For brands, that's everything. And we've unfortunately neglected ours, or at least, left it up for interpretation. MCCP has an unusually high profile for a company desperately trying to keep a low profile; outside interest is high, but public information is low. That's a lot of grey area to play in. And it's possible we've handed those who might disagree with our…unique style of interference an opportunity."

"That was a choice we all made - to roll low key. You think that'll bite us."

"I think it bit us. And that was a choice you made. There was never consensus. We've presented alternate approaches what, four, five times? I always considered it a missed opportunity; said as much. You may not recall in quite the same way I do, and that's okay; I understand. Some execs naturally want to be rock stars. Others want to be invisible, make it all about the market or their people or vision. Different kinds of companies, different goals. But we might be out of alignment for what we're trying to accomplish in this environment.

"We've been shy but enigmatic, which invites curiosity. Which we don't seem to want. We mix absolute secrecy with ongoing waves of public altruism and the occasional burst of extreme-science-fiction-by-press-release. A vision is implied, but our drivers are unstated. And we've ridden on that, so far unchallenged. Chloe tracks pretty well. I think people generally like whatever it is that she does, in an amused sort of way. But the public doesn't register strong opinions about you, Max. Or didn't _previously_ have strong opinions, at least.

"Which is a shame. Because we know what effect your leadership, styles, and personalities have on our own folks. Imagine that multiplied."

Max shook her head, "I disagree with your premise. We've put tons out there in the world. Maybe more than we should, faster than we ought to. People have repeatedly made the point that we've come out of nowhere. Here we are, fewer than three years into our hundred-year plan - trying to make sure they're around to build their own plans for the next thousands. There's plenty of time for all that publicity stuff if we need it. I didn't want to paint a target."

"They don't get much bigger." Jillian rested her eyes, collected herself for before continuing. "Did you know - not one single employee has ever rated us as a workplace on any online rating site? Out of nearly twenty-thousand people. Not one." She shrugged. "We don't have a policy against it - but we have a company full of people who are in on your Big Secret. What can they possibly say to the world outside about their time here that will reflect anything real?"

Max made a face. "I'm not sure what that has to do—"

"Everything. Self-inflicted wounds. Any stranger can say anything about us, and it's probably more than we've told about ourselves. Definitely more than you've ever shared, Max. It's profile, not publicity. What do people associate with our name? Secrecy is deeply embedded in the culture here. About things that probably don't need to be secret.

"It's _**the**_ barrier to doing the job my team and I were hired to do. And I firmly believe it's a decision that works against our mission. I'm still learning new things we're doing every day, mostly by accident. And I work here. I've always thought it was weird that we're trying to save the world without their awareness or participation. I don't know if that scales. Maybe it's like you all said - with fusion and medicine and those kinds of quantum jumps, it doesn't matter. Maybe you're right. But…technology for sure isn't the whole problem out there. It won't be a complete solution by itself, either. Nothing you don't already know.

"I don't want to speak for others, but crisis aside, we could have been so much more. More open, setting an example, leading the world. Or going farther - opening their minds to a different kind of day. We'd be in a different place right now if we had. But instead of leading, inspiring, we're hiding. Spinning our cycles doing damage control against the tweets of thugs. We're not hidden from them.

"We're keeping our secrets though. Which are about the fate of the world and everyone in it. For all the good it does us. And no-one here pushes back on that philosophy, cause it comes from the top."

Chloe knew where Jillian was heading. Didn't want to pile on Max. But she was also disinclined to interfere. _She could stand to hear some version of this again from someone else. Maybe if she hears it enough…_

Jillian continued, "I don't think you guys realize how rare it is for anyone inside the company to question you. Outside your core leadership team."

Max interrupted, "That's _so_ not true."

Jillian scratched out a doodle. "It is. I'm not talking about 'to your face'. I mean _at all._ To have the thought that you might be wrong. You should walk around as someone else for a day. That's one thing the Journal stories got right. Our folks all believe in you. And obviously in each other and our mission. Because we know - from you - it's the only thing that matters. But _we're the only ones who know_. And we're the only ones who know the character of the two women leading us. Even as insiders, we only get a partial picture, and we take a lot on faith, Max. Why wouldn't we? I mean - you're _from the future_. Heh. And Chloe - you have unimaginable libraries of knowledge from two realities at your fingertips. Who are any of us normals to have a question? How could either of you ever be wrong in their eyes? See the problem?"

Chloe raced to the horizon. Kept quiet.

Max's brows knit together. "Jillian, you know it's not really like that." She put her coffee cup down a little too loudly.

"It is though. You just don't see it, because you're you. Of course, I'm talking to you now, and I don't feel fearful or prevented from speaking at all. It's not like _that._ And everything's fine as long as you're right. And if it turns out you're ever wrong, I'm sure you'll drop behind and change things forward until you're not. We're not any of us wrong to trust you and stay focused on our own teams and problems and fields of expertise. But you're also not trying to do bio-engineering when that's not your job, so there isn't often a real need. Though in a way, you are trying to shape our approach to managing public perception, when that isn't your thing.

"There are different ways to conduct our agenda, deeper levels of engagement with the public, and they haven't all been given a fair hearing. We do a million awesome things every day that no one knows about. We should own it. It would have prevented all this wasted motion."

John looked uncomfortable.

Jillian sounded like she'd been holding this in for a while.

Chloe figured Max would see it too.

And Max being Max, she'd let Jillian speak her piece.

"Your bent has always been to have us carry out our work behind the scenes," Jillian continued. "Okay. It's how They work. If that's the template we want to emulate. No one outside knows why we're doing anything we do. And we can't explain it. There's no benefit of the crowd - or benefit of the doubt. No outside enthusiasm cheerleading us all along, no tailwinds. But sure, we can pull them all along with us. Not sure how they relate to us in the mean-time though. I guess the science nerds think we're cool. That peer level is the only place there's real dialog, but even then, it's very tightly controlled.

"You've said our deeds should speak for themselves, but…you know that ninety-nine-plus-percent of the time if we do our jobs right, no one out there ever knows we were there for them when they needed us. Or that there may have even been a reason for us to be. It doesn't accrue. And the times they do know or suspect, we've allowed it to be treated like fiction. Passive gas-lighting in a way, because it already reads like fiction. We just ignore it. Because as crazy as it sounds, you two are goddamn superheroes, we have a private army, our own space program, and robot tech from the future. And without us, the world is going to end. And we can't say a helpful word that might position us. Can't acknowledge the connections we make with people's lives when we lend a hand. Can't celebrate when they go on to do the same for someone else. Cause you won't let us. Instead, these vague mythologies grow in the wake of our actions. To some people, that's what we are. Leaving others inspired for all the wrong reasons.

"And maybe that trade-off would be acceptable in a vacuum. Except there's this other team out there; as you've all taken great pains to point out - they're powerful, organized, and adept at shaping the world to their own desires. Maybe they're pushing a very different point of view about us into the marketplace of ideas now. Cause we've chosen not to sell. We've chosen not to involve the public in their own salvation. In my heart, I can't believe that's the best call. We've given them no protection from manipulation or lies. All so we can go it alone on their behalf. In secret. Why? What good are your butterflies' wings when you keep them all locked up in jars?"

Chloe raised an eyebrow. _Bold move, Cotton._

Max stared ahead. _Or is it inward?_

Jillian tossed her pen onto her notepad. "I'd normally chalk it up to inexperience – first company, young founders, but we know better. By the time you got to this place last round, you didn't have to sell. You didn't have to try to make anyone understand. Just did your thing quietly, and that sounds like it was the right approach for those circumstances. But this is a different world.

"We only operate with the consent of other people. And there's no discussion about a coherent counter-narrative based on the deeper truths that might keep them on board. Or talking points that might allow the few outsiders who understand us to defend us to the others who don't. Because you said no. And everyone inside trusts that you know what you're talking about. But this hasn't ever been your field."

Max scowled behind her holo. "I may not be an expert, but I'm not as unsophisticated as it might appear; I'm aware of the bigger patterns. Speaking of benefit of the doubt - you don't know everything we know. The line we're trying to walk, the tensions we're trying to maintain outside your area. But…I'm a little confused here. As the expert, what _is_ your advice? Jump back and undo the interview with Juliet? Or stay and investigate? What are you asking for? Or are you saying that at the first sign of resistance, we should abandon our philosophy of gentle guidance, and just go completely public with the capital-T version of the truth? Expose ourselves, scare the ever-loving shit out of everyone? Probably unravel society, upend faith, history and social grounding for billions of people before they're ready? Why? Cause you don't think we can weather a misunderstanding or some bad press? Isn't that _your job?_ "

"If I was allowed to do it," countered Jillian, without missing a beat. "Respectfully, Max, there's no audience for our advice. There hasn't been. Ounce of prevention, but I don't have permission to do my job. And my team's hands are tied behind their backs. This is the most important story, company, group of people, effort - probably in modern history. And we're leaving it untold. I've…been waiting for you guys to come around because there's no other game in town and…because I believe we can be more for people. But fixing this little tempest? That's easy. That's all you. You should just go back and do your thing and undo it all. And then keep jumping around undoing, until a million variables have been altered, and you build the perfect timeline where you get to keep your head down. You don't need me for that."

Chloe was torn between reflexive defense of Max and a new respect for Jillian. _She doesn't pull her punches. Even if she doesn't know exactly where the line is._

Max, gritting, "You know the situation is more nuanced than that."

Jillian shrugged. "Not really. We engage, or we're at the mercy of others. It's how it is for everyone. Look, guys, if this is a bad-guy effort, it's a smart one. It's not about guns you can take away. They've gone after the core of our reason for being here, and exploited weaknesses we're obviously not prepared to defend.

"If we launched any of our suggested programs even six months ago, their attempt would have died in the planning stages, cause they'd know they'd be laughed off the internet. But there's no groundwork in place. We have decent goodwill based on unproven claims and a few good deeds. Third party endorsements of the tech. Tech I didn't even know was operational, and I edited the press releases. But as we're learning, third parties can also say bad things. And in the absence of prior engagement or bridge-building, it all sounds just as reasonable to people."

Jillian paused again. Spoke deliberately. "But we are where we are. If we're to stay here, moving forward, I'm only saying that our reputation is under attack, and regardless of who gave the push, that attack is snowballing beyond its origination in a predictable way. And if we're to continue to have a meaningful impact on the world, overtly or covertly, maintaining a positive reputation matters. I'm saying that this could easily spiral into operational problems. Because trust matters and the cooperation of outsiders is essential. But you'd know more about that. What I know is we don't get but the slightest benefit of the doubt in this vacuum we've created. We may need to re-examine all of our options if we're to get past this. Even the uncomfortable ones. Because _the mission_ is supposed to be what matters most."

Chloe held her tongue. _Not wrong. But too far?_

"I'm not even advocating full disclosure, by the way. Just running competent strategic PR, social, advertising and marketing programs for a brand our size, at our stage, with our level of funding - and our aspirations for the world. Profile building. But…there's been no willingness to consider any of the plans we've put together. Because everybody already knows better. It requires _your_ participation, and for you to take on more public personas and roles. Get you guys - and your personalities - out there. Which you don't seem anxious to do. I don't want to make you be something you're not, Max. But someone needs to do this work. Someone needs to represent us. Represent these ideas we care so much about. There have been some disjointed efforts, but it's so minimal…

"We all know you can jump around the timeline fixing things if this craters, so I trust you to sort it out. I do. But if me sharing my perspective, as the lone subject matter expert who's willing to question you, saves you some loop time, that's all I can offer."

Chloe took a read on Max. _Micro-expressions…conflicted. That's probably enough for now._ "Let's table this topic for the moment, Jillian?" Chloe briefly debated sending her a side-text. She and Sophie each explored aspects of these themes with Max in their own ways. And she knew Max was lately near the fence herself, if not remotely on it. _Not there yet._ May not ever get there though, when there would always be another way. _Still. Worth a try._

Jillian nodded.

Each remained silent.

 _Max doesn't look pissed, but she's not happy either._

 _Hard to separate out the day from the rest though._

 _She'll think about it._

The analyst next to John eventually filled the void. "I don't know about all that awkwardness, but it doesn't seem like the big-bad. Their style. Aren't they usually more direct? Is there a phase 2?"

Another, opposite, argued, "I don't know. Could be a distraction for something coming. Or, for all we know, this is how they usually drive history, or…whatever it is they do."

Chloe had a strong sense of deja-vu. Probably not the only one.

John, between bites, "Chloe? You're quiet. I'm sure you've been over everything in the last half-hour. What are you dying to say?"

Chloe downshifted, hit the brakes, changed lanes. Accelerated. "I'm multitasking. What you've all already said. Guns don't work, so maybe it's a new tack. Need more intel to be sure. Otherwise, we're guessing. And other-otherwise, I'm mostly pissed. Journal motherfuckers…bunch of hit and run chickenshit assholes. Sorry. I've been rootin' around, no pun. Hang on. You know what? Fuck it. I'm in their infrastructure anyway…nothing obviously incriminating jumps out, but…gimmie a sec, just adding few new files over here…and…I'll publish their sincere, heartfelt retraction and apology for them. Boom. Solved."

"Chloe, please - wait. They'll only come out later and say they were hacked," suggested Jillian. "Your internet fan clubs are visibly running amok in their own ways. Which, unfortunately, plays right into the growing 'fanaticism' story angles."

Max groaned. "Oh. Shit. That's right, 'wacky internet fringe'? That's gonna get interesting. Since when are they all hackers though?"

Jillian shrugged. Folded her hands. "Some are. It's a…large, diverse fringe? Fringes. And they're _all_ acting like this is their goddamn day to shine. Talking openly about brigading, campaigns, petitions, boycotts. Doxing, harassing journalists. Which will go predictably. I'm sure it's only a day or two before the wildest speculations of the fringe conspiracy people share mainstream airtime and column-space with the skeptics and accusers. It's going to get more complicated-weird than it will be 'interesting'. The fuel for this fire is potentially endless. Which should be concerning."

Chloe passed a truck like it was standing still, where the freeway narrowed to highway. "Meanwhile, our intrepid hero Chloe is driving into an atomic test range, toward early fallout…still no pun."

"Yeah, sorry, Chloe," said John. "Tried to take that one, but with Mitchell out of the country on vacay after closing Lombard…they said it had to be more senior - you or Max. They'll lift the lockdown on our folks once you get there. Their math isn't hard to grok."

Jillian put down her cup. "That's what I'm…these are direct effects. Three days in, and Chloe's having to go off and deal with all that, Jeremy's fielding early SEC rumblings. It's already beginning. Certain to get worse, if we don't get a proactive handle on this soon. Or before. At the most conservative, we have a crisis plan, talking points. We've done a lot of the research and messaging; you could take it all back to Sunday night if you're reluctant to undo the interview itself or…any of the rest, Max. Give us a heads-up, the plan, benefit of the specific coverage data. Minimizes damage while leaving the bad guys in play - if this turns out to be a bad guy thing. Which, it sounds like you're all trending toward."

Chloe cut in with a sharp jerk, narrowly avoiding an oncoming car. "Whatever this is, it's damned inconvenient. I had other plans."

John shrugged, "Alternative to your little adventure is an asset seizure under the general heading of 'national security concerns'. Also inconvenient - and as Jillian keeps reminding me, won't help the shape of the emerging story-snowball if they announced it. Let's not give them a reason to want that?"

"Yeah. No, I know, dude. They're doing us a courtesy, coming in person. They prolly just need to look one of us in the eye. Acquisition's fresh, and with this media nonsense, fed stiffs have to be a little nervous about supply continuity, potential blowback on them, and, you know, our provisional clearances. Since S-6 is essentially a giant SCIF inside a controlled access mini-state…nevermind Area 51, right? I mean, DOD guys should be pretty easy to manage once I'm there - I'm into their digital lives already but…I don't like that this has put us back on the DOJ's radar. Bad memories. SEC is new. We're private, not sure why they care. Guess I could snoop. I'll, uh…try to be my most charming self for the DOD peeps and hurry back."

Max cautioned, "Not too charming, Chlo. And hey, while you're driving, maybe you could go back over the Juliet dragnet stuff yourself? I know our folks are good, but…"

"…I see things different. Yeah. Already ahead of ya. You're going then?"

"Course. I'll be lower profile than a team. Oh, good reminder - um, have them stand down, John? If she's there, it'll go better one-on-one. And if she's not, I might notice something you guys would miss. I remember how she keeps her room."

"Okay. All yours. Low key. Are those the rules of engagement? Is this 'line a keeper? Or are we in a recon loop?" John rose from the table.

Max pulled her hair above her into a pineapple. "We'll see. Play it like it's forever, and that way, if it is…"

Hands on the table, he said, "Got it. And after you're done in New York, maybe you should bump north, hunt down your new beady-eyed, floppy-headed bestie, Wallace? Since he's the highest-order bad guy we have an address for? See if he has anything to say. Or meaningful silence?"

Max looked up, pondering. "If it's them, they'd expect that. He probably won't know anything on the chance. Watch him, but no contact? He's got a different role to play in this. If we hit a wall, I'll do a mini-loop. But for now, I'm inclined to leave him be."

"Noted."

"Okay - you guys keep going. Jilli - quick circle back - I hear you, even if I don't entirely agree. We did spend time with the various plans, in some detail. I felt at the time they were too ambitious, too early. In my experience, interviewers always zoom in on our apparent ages, our education - it's a mechanical function of where we are in the timeline. But it's a distraction. Couple more years, it won't be an issue. We'll have more tech functioning in the world, hopefully fewer skeptics.

"But…I've been doing some thinking as well. About the friction between secrecy and influence, and between helping directly and encouraging self-empowerment. Maybe we can talk again once this is behind us - if you want. It's possible we've…dogmatically overcorrected; there might be some other things we can do in the mean-time.

"For now, I feel like we need a better handle on the lay of the land before we commit to a short-term direction. Thank your team for all the hard work. I think we all understand and share your urgency and concern. Can always reboot. Give us a day or two to decide." Max pushed back from her holo.

"Of course. No malice. Just trying to help. And few more hours won't be what suicides us on the altar of public opinion." Jillian cracked a smile. "I'm more than happy to let this be a reboot too. Clean. Not that I'm pushing." Jillian leaned back in her chair. "But to be clear, I'm pushing. About the other, yeah - any time. I think we'd all welcome that discussion, see if there's some beneficial middle ground."

Max nodded, reached for the holo-controls. "Cool. Heading off-comms for a few. Shower. Change. I'll jump back on once I'm in New York? What's it like in the city today, Chlo?"

"Uh. Let's see. Fashion Week. Also, Dog Fashion Week - that's cute. Jedi lightsaber combat exhibition going on…buuuut that's not what you were asking. Uh, as far as weather goes, layer up. Snowed a couple days ago, you'll have two or three inches maybe in open spaces, some black ice. Galoshes if you're feeling splashy, it's slush off the curbs. Cloudy, upper twenties over the next few days, twenty-mile-per-hour winds, blah blah blah, let's see - nothing new hit the city until next week, which shut everything down. TL;DR: uh, it's cold, but you should be fine today. Watch your step is all."

"Thanks. BRB."

* * *

 **Max** adjusted her wooly scarf against the chill wind, crunched her way up the last of the steps from Morningside Park to the western road that shared its name.

Snow blanketed the city, blended with low, cloudy skies, leaving sharp vertical shadows as the only contrasting relief. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, even the shadows faded with distance. _It's like I've stepped into an old black and white photo._

Juliet's contemporary dorm towered twenty stories above her.

Chloe's voice in her earpiece, "Come on. Turn 'em on, dude."

"Gimmie a sec, your royal impatientness. Just got here." Max unfolded the glasses, put them on. They fired up with her body heat. Her eyes tracked the boot-up calibration prompts on the overlay. _Sync._ Test patterns dissolved to standard telemetry. Geo-markers, temperature, structural wireframes, and other background information, lightly drawn. Most faded to near-transparency until she needed it, leaving her vision clear.

A fog built up, the lenses heated in response, cleared.

"There you are."

"Bossy." Max smiled. "I'm not even your best eyes." Made her way between two parked cars, stepped over the plow of slush. Crossed the slippery road.

A hummingbird snapped in, hovered in front of Max. "Nope," Chloe disagreed and agreed at the same time. "But you are pretty goddamn adorkable in those frames." The drone shot straight up, joining the others. "You'll blend right in."

"Where am I blending?"

"Hang on - I gotta navigate the outer-gate guys, guys. Just follow the hud, Max. You'll be fine."

John's voice replaced Chloe's. "We have your position and cam live on the floor. Shoot the left gap; you can get in on the far side."

Max turned toward the locked steel bars to the left of the building. A thick, blocky arrow hung in space like a semi-transparent holo, steady, tracking with her head and eye movements. She folded across the small gap of the gate. Glasses stuttered, caught up to her new position.

Followed the nav to the side entry door.

Keycard. _Nope._

Folded across again.

Transit-style gates inside, bypassed. "I'm in."

A few students relaxed in lounge-chairs on either side of the main floor lobby, notebooks, textbooks or tablets in their laps. Quiet. Light, transparent circles around each face, their names lined out in space above their heads. "Why do I ever take these off?" Max mused.

One of the students looked up. She smiled at Max.

 _Would you still be smiling right now if you knew everything we know?_ Max kept walking.

"I'm in too," said Chloe. "And back. Let me know if you wanna see through walls or anything?"

"I think we can leave these peeps free from the peeps for now." Max wandered to the elevator doors. Fifteen arrows of various sizes, shapes, and degrees of pulsation helpfully highlighted the 'up' call button for her.

Max rolled her eyes. "Smartass."

Chloe chuckled. "Don't want you to get lost."

A ding.

"After all this time, what must you think of me?"

"Well, to be fair, you do sometimes get a little bit lost."

"Hey. Easy." Max smiled, entered the elevator. "Let's take a moment to remember who warped us halfway to Andromeda and back. Without course correction, I might add."

Chloe stayed silent.

Everyone the ops side of the line did too.

 _That's…they don't…they're probably processing that last bit._

A soft amber circle pulsed around the '18' button. Max pushed it. "Better."

The elevator stopped to pick up a student, releasing him a few floors up. Continued. Opened to the 18th floor. Max exited, turned right, passed a common lounge area, continued down the long, central hallway.

 _Yeah. Mind is best on the present. Table it._

Narrow, dark. Flat wooden doors, unadorned. Number-plates. Arrows traveled halfway to the far side, stopped with an abrupt left.

 _Here we are._ "Chloe, gimme a pulse?"

"You gotta learn the menus, Max. Hang on."

In her glasses, the overlay brought forward the wireframe of the rooms beyond the door, outlines of furniture, plumbing, residual thermal on the electric stovetop, but no one inside. The electronic lock clicked open.

"You're welcome," lead Chloe.

Max played along. "Thank you. Not breaking and entering if nothing's broken."

"My lifetime spent enabling your life as a criminal. Wouldn't even be the hundredth time for that…" trailed Chloe.

Inside, a small futon, flat-screen. Behind the futon to one side, the kitchen. To the other, a bathroom. Dim light pushed through the small windows of each. Left and right, closed doors. The one to Max's left blinked in overlay.

Max tried the knob. Locked.

John's voice. "Try the top of the door-jam?"

On toes, she reached up. Amidst the dust, her fingers found the small, flat key.

Unlocked.

Max opened Juliet's bedroom door.

"Controlled access," deadpanned John.

Her room was small. Half the size of their old dorms at best. Only enough space for a bed, desk, chair. Books. A few bright tchotchkes from her childhood and her family travels.

Her bed was made, but not overly so. Comforter. Poofy. Pillows.

Framed pictures livened up the gloss-painted cinder walls. Downtown Manhattan, in wide-angle black and white from above. Promo posters from a few musicals. Her parents, wood-framed, on her desk.

Max opened the closet door. Clothes, shoes, grouped and ordered by brand. Ironing board. Steamer. Hamper. No spare hangars. Empty suitcases tucked above. Nothing loose. Everything had a tidy, organizing bin and lid, just like her room at Blackwell.

Max checked the trashcan under her desk. A few crumpled papers. Homework figures. Nothing interesting. Leafed through a few books. Nothing fell out. Lifted the mattress. Only sheets, tucked in.

Under the window, a flat wall radiator. On either side, plain, inset cubbies. Jewelry boxes. A few more books, keepsakes. In one, down low, a black box. She took it, sat on the bed. Opened the box.

Lifted the stack of photos out. Set the box aside. Flipped through them.

Chloe, in her ear, "Ouch."

Max, voice withdrawn, "Yeah." Candids from classrooms. A skeleton with a cigarette. A close-up of Victoria Chase, unaware. _Vic._ Sky, trees, through a paned window. Max lingered before going to the next. The old lighthouse from the beach. A few early photo assignments. Dana over-dramatically reclining near a tree outside the old dorms. Trevor, tossing a football to Zach. A crystal ballerina from a low angle, macro probably, blurred, backlit by a window, printed in high-contrast black and white. Couple of old childhood snapshots.

Max set the photos back, nestled in the box with a couple of party fliers, programs, spirit ribbons. Half a small gold charm. _Be Fri_.

"Only ghosts," whispered Max. Gently laid the box to rest in the bottom cubby.

"Okay, Max?"

"I'm okay. It's…nothing we haven't seen before." Flashes of the deconstruction. Paid for, but not attended. Until once, later, in the rebuilding. Brick by brick. The remnants of Arcadia gradually dissembled in the first pass. Over years. _Not this timeline._ Least they could do, even if from a distance.

Max shook it off. Opened the closet door one more time, closed it.

Backtracked to the small living room. Bathroom. Kitchen. Refrigerator was stocked. Fruits, vegetables. Insulin? _Roommate._ A few mismatched bottles of beer. Frozen meals. Pint of ice cream, half-eaten.

Cabinets half-full, cereal, peanut butter, ramen and microwave popcorn. Pasta on the counter. Max blinked at the menu-surround at the edge of her glasses. See-through one more time, looking for anything hidden. Nothing.

"What do you think, Max?" asked John.

"Nothing you guys haven't identified on your end. Whether she left or was taken, it was unexpected. No sign of a struggle here. No empty hangars or half-empty drawers. Her books, luggage are here, along with her toothbrush, hairbrush. No purse anywhere though. She left thinking she was coming back. Whatever changed, it happened was while she was out in the world."

Chloe jumped in. "'Bout that. Dipped into the surveillance archive like you asked. It looked for all the world like a big fat blank. I'm not surprised our gang missed it."

"Missed what?" asked John, concerned.

"Like Max said…ghosts. Only this time, in the data."

"Chlo - what do you see?"

"She went out. But somebody followed behind after, erased her from all of the streams. Somebody really fucking good."

"Wait - what? Like _your_ kind of erase?"

"Okay, not _that_ good. But…almost. They tried. Left artifacts behind. Nothing an eyeball could ever see. But the upside is, I have a trail that starts with Juliet on Monday morning, outside her dorm. I'm working it backward and forward from there. Takes a little time going from one source to the next. Could use some pacing help. You up for a quick walkabout, Max?"

* * *

 **Chloe** wasn't reconstructing the missing visual bits of information from the recorded streams, so much as extrapolating and chasing the edges, the data outlines of erasure of where Juliet had been.

Almost like watching a small, thin piece of glass swinging outside a window, but from a distance. Painstaking work, further limited by the throughput of the various source streams. The resulting holographic recreation in Max's lenses unfolded in real-time as a result.

"Okay - so this is how it'll work, Max. Just follow the holos like they're people. John, I'm duping the feed to you guys too. Plus archive."

Max said, "She's coming out of the door. This is cool, Chlo. She's turned, heading down the street. …and we're _walking…_ "

Chloe authenticated herself to the gate security system on the turn in from Mercury Highway. Rolled through to the site, engine tamed back to a civilized burble. Parked in their reserved space. Exited to the cold, dry Nevada air. Vague hints of asphalt and vinyl on the wind.

Three black Chevy Suburbans with government plates hunkered in the no-parking area next to the main office entrance. Dust patterned around their wheel wells. A young uniformed soldier watched over the vehicles, smoking a cigarette.

 _Another John. 24, southern Florida native, just re-upped. Started life poor as fuck. Cute wife back in Norfolk now. House. Pictures. New baby; looks like a tiny alien. Just a normal dude._

Chloe partitioned, splitting attention between navigating her present and uncovering Juliet's recent past.

Gave DriverJohn a nod on her way in.

 _Game face._

* * *

 **Max** kept pace behind Chloe's holo-sim. It wasn't Juliet, exactly. But it was a person-shaped form, rendered in light, glitching somewhere between two and three-dimensions. Good enough reconstruction to mirror her every move, if none of the detail between the lines.

Max's breath turned to fog, clouding her glasses.

Her foot slipped a little as she stepped down off the curb.

 _Oops. That'd be bad._

The fogging stopped. The thin layer of snow and ice melted around her.

 _Better._

Before Juliet was halfway across the street, another light-figure entered the crosswalk from the other side. _Someone else who was erased?_ Collided with Juliet. They both stopped, fumbled, bent over in the street. The figure returned something. Kept walking. Looked back. Faded.

Juliet stepped up the far curb. Took something out of her pocket maybe. Paused. Examined it. Turned. Looked in all directions, then continued, a little more quickly.

"Chlo? What did we just see? What just happened?"

Chloe's inner voice responded, "Not a hundred percent sure. Might be nothing. Hesitation in her step says uncertainty after. Maybe she got a text? I'm digging in parallel…oh. That's interesting."

Max followed a few steps behind. "What?"

"She got a text, but not on her phone. Shit. I think…I think we just saw a hand-off. In the crosswalk. That was a burner."

"From who? Any idea what it said?" Juliet's figure continued to walk, turned once, kept going.

"Not yet. Following the hander-offer in both directions now too. I've got the tower and device ID, walking that to the source. Metadata's faked, and nothing on the message content. Looks like the transaction logs were altered too. Shit. Wide open backdoor at the carrier. Someone's been busy."

"Might help if we knew what it said."

"Patience. Hey - John - while I'm polytasking with this and our DOD dudes over here, can you have somebody break in and pull Juliet's message archive from NSA backups? Her carrier's a dead end. I'm gonna keep working on this burner back-end."

"On it."

Max made it another half block before Chloe came back on. "Okay, guys. Max. We got something big and noisy coming up. Next intersection. Shit."

"What is it?"

"Big, freaky ball of eraser-trace. And I recovered a fragment of the burner text…sending."

At the lower end of Max's field of view, a text. It read, _'…shoo…ros/…hedral station.'_ "What the hell?"

Chloe in her ear, "Ah, fer fuck's sake."

Max hit the intersection as Juliet's ghost was halfway through. A big blocky vehicle, probably a van, rendered in, skidded next to her. Figures jumped out at her, reached to grab.

"Here we go…"

Juliet's form dropped, deadweight, kicking.

 _Smart. Good girl._

Two pulled at her arms, up, into the vehicle, glitches, blurring. The head of one of the figures snapped back. It dropped, fell on top of her. The other let go.

"Chloe?"

The render froze.

"…ahead of you, Max. Hang on. Narrowing. There. Left. Top of a brownstone, opposite side of the park. Caught a barrel-shaped artifact over the edge of the roof, in an ATM cam across the street. Hello, party number two. Someone waited for this."

Max traced the dotted line of the projectile to a highlighted shape on a rooftop. "Is she okay?"

"Wish I could focus here. Hang on. There's more."

The reconstruction resumed. A smaller vehicle entered the scene from the opposite direction, the intersection, pulled to block the van. Three shapes exited, leaving the driver. Visual noise, then Juliet was up, bent, running away, covering her head, ears. Slipped. Slid behind cars. Ran down the broad steps into Morningside Park.

"She must have been scared to death. Do you have her through the park?"

"Yeah - no - lost her, going wider, artifacts pick up again on the lower street."

A marker appeared in Max's glasses. She folded the space between. Picked up the glow of residual Juliet heading quickly away. "I'm here."

"So looks like the guys upstairs kept at it. Two down on each side. Van's taken off, left their dudes in the road. Second vehicle pulled their peeps. Both have taken off. Need to keep an eye on that intersection, see who came in for the cleanup. Plenty of witnesses. And why wasn't any of this in the news? Fast-forwarding. Following both vehicles forward and back. Shit. Fragmenting. Lots to trace in all directions. Hang on. Spinning up a couple of core-bot helper-monkeys for the autopilot handoff…there. Okay. I'm back. Scouting ahead. We hit another dead-spot, but she probably keeps going. Got her. Up there."

Juliet's outline snapped forward, halfway down the block. Max folded again to catch up. Juliet crossed left onto Cathedral. "…hedral station…"

"Yep. Looks like. Couple blocks up on the left. Northwest corner of Central Park. Right direction."

A holographic vehicle shape jumped the curb in the distance. Aimed at Juliet's outline on the sidewalk.

Juliet scrambled over the hood of a parked car, jostled off it in the sideswipe. Fell to the street on the far side. Got up, sliding, running.

Another vehicle from a cross-street entered view, ran at Juliet, aiming to pin her between itself and the row of parked cars. Less than half the distance to her, it was pushed off course by another passenger car.

"Okay…" Chloe sounded puzzled. "That's interesting."

"What the fuck is going on, Chloe? It's like two separate groups are fighting over her? While someone else is trying to warn her or help her maybe?"

"Uh. Yeah. Keep after her for a minute. I'm on to something…"

It was weird seeing the visuals, but no sound. That, plus the transparency gave it an otherworldly feeling.

The van hit by the passenger car spun out. Figures emerged, unsteady, apparently firing weapons toward her. Juliet, moving in a panic, hid between two parked SUVs, huddled. Hands covered her head and ears again. Frozen.

One firing shape dropped. Went straight down.

The other flew up into the air. Cartwheeling before coming to land in a crumpled heap in the middle of the intersection. A lone boot thrown off. Faded.

Chloe said, "Fuck, dude. Somebody's playing. Wow. Okay. Context. Somebody greened that whole intersection. There's a lot here that wasn't erased - near misses, cars blowing through. But it looks like Juliet has at least one friend."

Juliet stayed in place. More cars. Men. On her phone again. Hesitated. Made a break on the sidewalk-side. Figures fought amongst themselves.

Ahead of Max, between two parked cars again, Juliet's shadow, her head up, ducked, ran behind the cars down the sidewalk toward the underground. Car to car, stayed low. Stopped. Looked down. Continued.

"I think someone's guiding her." Max picked a spot ahead, folded. The glasses caught up, Juliet-shape continued to run toward her. Through her. Max turned.

A roundabout intersection. Lights. To the left, a narrow stairwell entrance to the subway. Juliet ran toward it. Stopped too quickly. Skidded, almost falling back.

Two figures ran up the stairs, onto the street toward her.

"That was a preemptive stop. I think you're right, Max."

She paused at the edge of the roundabout, then ran full-tilt across to the center island. Statue. Steps. Stone seats. Continued to the far side.

The two figures ran into the curving street after her. One flew sideways.

"Bus," said Chloe.

The other kept going.

"Okay, hold up, Max. Helpers are taking the load, and I'm getting better at this. You can stop here for a sec. Up ahead, it's more of the same - there's some back and forth, I think you're right on the burner. Someone's talking to her. Looks like she went into the park, couple of asshats in vehicles tried to intercept, another maybe firefight between third parties, she noped out through the underbrush and doubled back to the other subway entrance. Another text. Yeah…okay. She dropped her old phone in a trash bin. Looks like some dudes went down after her, got tangled in uncooperative turnstiles. Let's see…fast forward. I've got a dead end. She got on an A train. Artifacts stop there. Dead zone, and…nothing. She didn't get off anywhere down the line. But she's not there on that train, either."

"What does that mean?"

"Means we lost her. But it looks like they did too. Should develop a better picture on the other assholes as soon as my little agents finish doing their thing."

John interrupted, "Guys, we've got her personal text and geo-history. You want to see this. She was into something else over the last couple weeks. Not sure what, but copying you both on the report."

* * *

 **Juliet** startled as the drone flew through the top of the open window. Every sound was too loud, too sudden. Even the ones she expected.

Not as bad a fright as that first night here. Bumping against the window. Fucking heart attack.

It was one of the big consumer types she used to see flying around the city parks.

Daily ritual now. She removed the chocolate. And lifted the fresh prepaid phone from the wire basket under it, put the old one in its place.

Unpackaged the device, powered it on.

Text message waited for her.

 _:: Need anything?_

She replied.

 _:: Where do I start?_

Hit send.

A moment. A reply.

 _:: Hang in there. :)_

The drone retreated through the window, tilted against the crosswind. Flew low over the island grounds, vanished in the general direction of Brooklyn.

She raised the double-hung window, sealing out the chill. Mostly.

Her new 'friends' said she was secure in this…safehouse. Whoever they were. Called themselves _The Collective_. Whatever. They warned her. Helped her get through the city to safety. Like they could see her.

All the way down to Governor's Island, off the southern tip of Manhattan. Mostly deserted in winter. No ferries. Construction stopped with the snow. The few artists, maintenance workers were on the other side of the old fort and weren't keen to wander out in this weather. Aside from the general freezing temperatures and drifted snow, a stiff wind blew across the island, amplifying the extreme chill. She was alone. For now.

She closed the thick, light-blocking curtains, shivered. Sat on the floor in front of the gas wall-heater. Blower on the highest setting. Stayed long enough to take the edge off. Got too warm otherwise. Left her skin red. First night, she didn't even notice. It was something she could feel.

They'd guided her to a well-stocked, fully furnished historical residence, albeit small and poorly insulated. Old tube TV. Books. She noted several that looked to be about dealing with trauma, PTSD. Picked one up, but… There was also food. Blankets. Hot water. An orange and white house-kitty. The heater was on most of the time. She had internet access through the mobile devices they changed out. They said they were secure for browsing but warned her against reaching out to anyone.

Absolutely fucking crazy. Awful.

Guns.

She'd never even been around them before.

Always scared her, in the abstract. Before.

Just…

Exploded in her ear, right next to her. The brass shells flew off, hit her, burning.

People were running away.

Still had a high-pitched whine on her left side days later.

No blood though. Not…hers.

She couldn't find any mention of Monday.

Didn't make any sense.

Or maybe it did.

The black vans, with their discreet square MCCP logos outlined on the lower corner of the doors. The black-clad soldiers. And the others in grey. The…fighting…endless thunder…and all that _blood_. Everywhere. On her. And…

Was just a regular day. Coffee before class.

She watched six human beings die in front of her. Maybe more. One fell close, held her eyes. Both of them afraid. Then he was gone. That they a wanted to hurt her didn't make it any less terrible.

She couldn't clean the pools of red snow from her memory.

Shuddered.

Didn't matter what from.

Light feet.

The tabby found her lap again. Crawled over her thigh, curled between her crossed legs. She stroked it absently.

When her eyes were open, she wanted to squeeze them shut.

But when her eyes were shut, she needed them to be open.

She didn't have a scratch.

One minute distracted.

The next, her heart raced for no reason.

Too much death. For one life.

It didn't make any sense.

The Journal pieces. Her name was on them, but she didn't recognize anything of herself, anything in the story. Or did she? She had their drive. If that was even what it was, after what Alex said…did they know? The messages said Alex was okay, that they covered her tracks, but…what did that mean? And what the hell was on that drive? If any of what was in print about MCCP was even partially true, and if they believed she was behind the story or anything else… _Would they do this?_ The vans.

 _Could Max Caulfield do this?_

Juliet never did see Chloe. But there were too many times in that interview, and employee interviews later that week, where she didn't feel like she knew Max at all.

But if not them, who? Why?

 _I don't know what to do._

 _You'll stay with me, won't you?_

No one answered.

 _Who am I talking to?_

The kitty purred softly, making biscuits against her ankle.

At least the house was quiet.

Even if there was nothing solid to grab onto.

The wind whistled vaguely.

She was hidden. Huddled.

Content to keep her head down.

Wanted to go home. _Home_ home.

 _Mom. Dad._

Instead, she was alone on an island, less than a thousand yards from millions of people.

Some of whom had guns.

And might still be looking for her.

Sleep came each night, but only late, and only then from exhaustion.

She finally passed out in a pile of blankets in the living room, in front of the blazing gas furnace. She didn't want to dream. Not again. Didn't want to see their faces. Their insides.

Too much.

 _Stop._


	18. Braid

**Max** stepped aside for the horses. Muted hoof-falls signaled their approach before she registered their tiny bells. The open-top white and red carriage rolled past with its bundled driver and passengers, leaving distinct imprints.

Iron fencing, lamp posts, and majestic trees framed each side of the road. Dusted branches arched far above, their fractal blacks and whites contrasting with the fluffy ceiling of middling grey clouds. It was gloomy enough that the old lamps were on, adding their light to the ambience.

With most of Central Park unplowed, the only sources of sound or color were the carriages. A few groups of people out walking or playing in the late morning snow.

 _Gothic peaceful._

 _Even without leaves on the trees, it's easy to forget I'm in the heart of Metropolis._

She followed the sweep of the road until she found what she was looking for. Cleared the snow from the bench with her sleeve. Removed her glasses. Settled. Her breath fogged away in rolling, dense huffs, mimicking the frothy grey overhead.

Waited.

She searched briefly for the numbers at the base of the lamp post beside her bench, but they were hidden beneath snow and ice. The numeric codes, the secret geo-markers inscribed on every lamp in the park, dated back a hundred years.

 _There's something poetic about hidden codes invented by people, inscribed in architecture, further obscured by nature…selectively revealing navigational cues embedded in the structure of the network. But if you don't know, you'd never know. The meaning only becomes apparent with additional context. But that meaning is still there, whether we're in a place to see and recognize it or not._

In this case, it was the simple theme of a 19th-century architect, layered in municipal infrastructure.

 _If you lose your way, let the lights guide you._

She smiled at the moment she found herself in. _Not lost._

Closed her eyes. Folded her mittened hands in her lap.

 _Listen._

Somewhere distant, the background pressure of traffic. Grey noise. But closer, over a rise, bright laughter cut through. Colorful, like beautiful flowing streamers.

 _Feel._

Her cheeks and nose tightened as the freezing air worked its way into her, penetrated the synthetic fill of her long jacket. She welcomed the goosebumps. The happy thoughts that came along.

 _What do you remember?_

 _Easy days._ She and Chloe, bundled so thick against the Oregon winter, they looked like colorful starfish. Vigorously defending the backyard snow-fort William helped them build. _We made those weird catapults out of bricks, rubber bands, and old spatulas. They never did work. I couldn't have been more than five or six. Funny how things change, but…don't. We're still here together, defending forts. Both real and wildly metaphorical._

 _Nighttime._ A happy rooftop, Chloe steaming, speechless. Max, freezing under the stars, trying desperately to undress for the warm promise of the rooftop hot tub. _Bummer she lost that whole night to a reset._

 _Exploring._ The surprised 'what the _fuck_ do we do?' on Chloe's face as thousands of curious penguins waddle-marched toward them on the ice shelf last year. Spiraling in from all sides. _They were like tuxedoed beaky zombies. Hehe._

 _Contrasts._ The heat of the Gulf Coast. A summer camp out, where bright aqua danced over white sands. All felt right with the world. Twenty miles offshore, through atmospheric haze, New Christie. A vibrant, messy, gleaming arcology, three miles high. Night after a visiting lecture. Only a month before the very end. Their skin scorched. _Was so humid that day._ Chloe waded through the shallow, crystal-clear water, wearing almost nothing, wavelets kissing her thighs. Spear-fishing for their dinner. Max captured a picture of that moment; the city at the horizon joined Chloe in an evocative unity of primitive and modern.

 _We don't get to keep everything, though._

 _I wish more of those lines survived._

 _Less of others._

 _But…we could fill lifetimes with our happy memories, all the same._

 _I…_

 _I miss you…_

A welling.

Any distraction.

Spilling out over the fence, a group of friends engaged in a running snowball fight across the road. Exploded spray fell to earth with each muffled thump, excited scream.

 _Kids…_

 _Listen to me. Kids?_

 _They're older than I am right now._

She smiled at herself. Tried again to clear her mind.

 _Be._

 _Here._

 _Now._

 _Because each moment, each tenth-of-a-second rolling wave of perception that defines this very exact sense of 'now' - only lasts, well…approximately forever, I guess?_

 _Each will always be, at its exact moment of its exact universe. And…even if some of those moments are undone, some of those universes end, they'll continue to exist in me. So long as I remember them._

She found the thought oddly comforting.

If almost lonely.

* * *

 **Chloe** saw the hidden police SUV too late to fake the attempt.

He gave a half-hearted swing of his speed-gun as she blew by. Not like his equipment would have registered with the Veyron modded for stealth. She passed him doing nearly 180.

"Oops. Myyy baaaad," she shouted backward with a wave. He wouldn't hear.

Didn't bother to give chase, and she didn't detect a radio call. _Prolly Joe._ He pulled her over twice last month. Nice enough guy. Local. Wasn't a douchebro or anything. Just very concerned for everyone's safety along his stretch of road. Including the cows. _Especially the cows._ She didn't hassle him.

Perhaps out of some unacknowledged sense of respect for the person, she lifted off the gas, allowing the wall of air she pushed through to slow her down.

Her time with the DOD guys went okay. Started off tense, but she charmed her way through. Before departing, they politely suggested that getting a handle on the media situation would be in everyone's best interests. Check-in. Nothing more. Chloe assured them there was nothing untoward happening inside MCCP. Nothing to worry about. Nothing to find. "Liberal media, amirite?" They laughed along, too smoothly. She rolled her eyes after they turned to go. No one had a monopoly.

 _Over for now._

She hit comms.

"Hey, Max - dude. Got yer ears in?" Steady on the wheel.

Max's voice came through as an amplified whisper. "Loud and clear, roger. How'd it go?"

"Wrangled 'em. Stop calling me Roger."

Max replied with The Courtesy Laugh and a pleasant, "Womp."

Chloe tried not to laugh. "Only one? Dick. And nah, it was fine. Your basic CYA. No drama…meanwhile, you're in the middle of the park? Literally chillin' on a bench. Cute, lazy Otter-pop."

Max waved vaguely up. "Yep."

Traffic ahead, where the highway turned to freeway. Edge of town. Chloe slowed to 90. "Okay - I'm hungry. Feed me, Seymour."

"K. I've been waiting for you to get done."

"Pick me up from the garage in a few? Should be a few more minutes. Can we grab lunch together somewhere near you? They still have some food left in New York, right?"

Serially amused, Max replied, "Far as I know?"

"A'aight. And after, Imma borrow you for some more light detective work. Hour? Between the text logs and ghost-streams, dividing and conquering with drones and minions, only have a couple places to check out in person. They're on opposite ends though, and I don't wanna have to drive through city traffic."

"Speaking of lazy. And what, you haven't solved the Mystery of Monday on your own yet? Some super-brain you turned out to be…find your damn receipt so I can take you back to the Genius Bar."

"That's just mean." Chloe stuck out her tongue. Not that Max would see. "It's an info gap, not a processing problem. But I'd like your help if you have time for me?"

"Yeah. Def. Kidding aside, I'm worried about her, Chlo. Let's figure out next steps. It's probably all connected. Answers to one mystery might apply to the other. Expect any complications?"

Chloe smiled to herself. "You just say 'def' like it was a regular thing? And nah. Shit should be a…well…a walk in the park."

"Funny. You're funny. Jesus. This is what I get." Max shook her head, stretched on her bench.

Chloe could almost hear the eye-roll. "You mean this is what you _deserve_. I'm ducking hilarious, and you love me."

Max, still laughing, "Autocorrecting yourself? That - I love. I'll come back and wait for you in the lower garage. Save me a big hug."

* * *

 **Chloe** hit the L-button. Shifted weight from one foot to the other. Restless.

Max sat her butt on the rail, hands on each side, one foot kicked behind the other.

Chloe backed up, pressing into her. Whispered faux-seductively over her shoulder, "Salsa."

"Tacos?" Max put her arms around Chloe's waist, hand dragging her open jacket aside. Fingertips found belly-skin.

Chloe put her hand over Max's. "Uh. Hi there. Yeah, there's a new place. Minions upstairs raved. I'll show you."

"I'm down for whatevs."

Their descent slowed. A hidden speaker dinged as the doors opened to a toasty lobby clad in rich, warm leather. A handful of bankers from one of the lower floors waited for them to exit. Chloe pivoted forward, hand trailing, pulled Max out with her.

One banker hesitated, did a double-take as they passed.

Chloe waited 'til they were out of earshot. "Aaand we're trending. _Shit._ "

Max squeezed her hand. "Hmm? Prolly just thinks you're hot."

" _You're_ hot."

Max switched sides, hands.

Chloe added, "But it might be a good day for low-key." The blues washed out of her hair, riding a wave of shiny jet-black.

"Loki?"

"Low…you…shut up."

Max smiled without comment. Grabbed the corner with one hand, rounded the end of the wall dividing the main lobby, speeding Chloe around the outside like she was a washer on a string. "I love that our people everywhere take turns lunchtime scout-anting." She giggled, traced from one fossil impression in the rock wall to the next with her free hand as they walked toward the bright corner-exit. "Sure you don't wanna go ice skating?"

Chloe did her own double-take. "You okay Max? I'd be more than surprised if you did. Especially today. And especially-especially after what happened _last_ time you were on ice."

Max took an extra half-step to catch up. "I'm okay. And only playing. Kinda. But we should sometime. Be fun. We're both more coordinated now. You could throw me up and catch me or something fancy."

" _South cow!_ You should be so lucky."

"I know! But…I'm like, ninety-percent sure it's not _south cow?"_

"That's the…joke…South Park, Brian Boitano song?"

Max shook her head. "No…still not…well…whatever…we should go skating anyway. I think they're breaking it down in a few weeks. Spring will have sprung, and this glorious wonderland will be gone forever."

"Only 'til next fall." Chloe scanned Bryant Park from an artificial viewpoint she constructed above. Across the street, diagonal. Pavilions. Ice rink. Lunchtime crowd watching the skater crowd. That one same dude always power-skating backward in black tights, weaving between people.

 _Be you, black-tights-dude._

She thought he might be related to backwards-rollerblading-pink-tights-dude in Venice Beach. Pictured a whole big family of them at home for the holidays, each in their different colors. Smiled to herself. _Share that one later._ Chloe pushed the wooden bar, opening the glass door to the street. "If not this year…"

"We should still try. But guess you're right. Our current priorities should mostly include feeding you, then investigating whatever we're investigating. So. To the tacos! And…salsa. Mmmm. Salsa." Max kept Chloe's hand.

Chloe made a gurgling, "saalsaaaa," like it was brains.

They turned right, zagged a few blocks in the general direction of Hell's Kitchen. The sidewalks were open, but slippery in some places. What dirty snow remained clung stubbornly to the corners, gutters.

 _At least the garbage has been picked up around here_.

Piles of frozen bags lined curbs all over the city.

Chloe drove a couple of hummingbirds parallel to their route. Nothing to see. Split them off to patrol on their own. A few more blocks and they reached the restaurant.

The ordering line extended outside, but not far. They joined the tail end of an ongoing fight between keeping the door closed against the outside air and the civil necessity of orderly queueing.

Looked like they were early enough to beat the real lunch crowd. Line moved. They waited for their turn at the counter, ordered. Carne asada tacos for Chloe, with chips, guac, and salsa. Tall glass bottle of MexiCoke. _Real sugar!_ _Thank the maker._

Max went for the five-spiced chicken with fried rice and black beans. Neon-lime drink.

Chloe found them a small table near one of the front windows, set the order-number at the edge, wandered off with her finger in the air. "Brbs. Salsa run. _"_

She returned a minute later with utensils, napkins, balancing an assortment of salsas in clear plastic containers. Two super-hot varieties and two that threatened mildness. The latter for Max. The others probably fell somewhere between. _Or, maybe they're totally en fuego._ No labels. Hard to tell.

"Thanks, babe. You da best." Max dipped a chip in the not-so-hot as they waited for their food. Paused mid-way to her mouth, rolled her eyes at something behind Chloe.

"Hmm?" Chloe followed her line of sight. A man, dressed in what looked like cold-weather construction gear, scanning a folded paper while he ate his foil-wrapped burrito. "And they say print is dead."

Max crunched. "Not quite yet."

Chloe scanned the headline. _'Senate committee expresses concern over recent MCCP allegations.'_ Scowled. "Oh, for fuck's sake. Seriously?"

Max smirked, reached for another chip. " _Now_ they're concerned. Where the hell were you guys when the black rhinos were…you know…whatever." She wrinkled her brow, shook her head and shifted her attention to the world outside their window.

Chloe cracked open her bottle by hand. Cold. Sharp, exploding bubbles of fizz. "Fuck em. That's what our drones are for."

Max gave her a side-eye. "I'm pretty sure I misunderstood that."

Chloe held up her hand, laughed. "That was 100% poor phrasing."

"Maybe we should be happy we live in a time when people can still read, right?"

"I'd laugh, but…" _…we know better._ Chloe took a few seconds to absorb the rest of the article online. Her irritation returned. Followed links to a few other related stories. Got the gist. "Looks like the congress-critters are just reacting to media questions for now. Soundbites. Grumbly posturing. Nothing…major. I know this is all a game, and we only just got here, but the shit's already gettin' real old."

"Feel like it's just getting started, Chlo. Did you see the one in our Valley weekly from yesterday?" Max rested her chin on her hand. Made light motorboat noises in her drink while she waited.

Chloe scanned. Picture on the front page was a single frame grab from the live news camera broadcast on New Year's. Bright flare just off camera. Alena standing between the gunmen and the light. Alongside was a top-down diagram, assembled from eyewitness accounts, placing Chloe on the stairs. Confirming that she was the likely target. Repeating the notions first made by others that Alena's actions were more influenced by external psychological programming than any individual heroism of her own.

Max locked eyes. "You got it?"

Chloe nodded. "Sadly."

"See the evolution? How the attribution chains drop off? The shift in language? Like the telephone game." Max stifled a sad laugh.

Chloe brushed up earlier that morning after Max hit the shower. Studied a decade's worth of industry charts and graphs, published infographics, articles and posts on navigating crisis, managing reputation and other related topics. Internal training materials inside a handful of companies for good measure. Ran her own meta-research of everyone else's data. Saw a few new patterns emerge, but they mostly confirmed the efficacy of the general best practices. Which didn't apply in their case, since the crisis was wholly manufactured, and they couldn't respond with the capital 'T' truth.

She wasn't at Jillian's level of real-world experience or relationship development, but she understood the moving pieces in her own way. "That's not unusual, Max. This trajectory is how real scandaly things play out. There's a common pattern. We've stayed quiet so far. But most companies either come clean and give a timeline of next steps, or they don't, opting for some ham-fisted, legalese-sounding denials. Stick to their guns. Jillian's right, though - jumping in always triggers the next wave. Doesn't seem to diverge or differentiate between real scandals and well-orchestrated disinformation, which—"

"I think we're on the same page about what this probably is at this point." Max pursed her lips. "But…still. I don't know how anyone _believes_ any of this shit? It's so obvious. Journal writes another follow-up hit piece, calls us a stupid death-cult. No proof. Two other articles quote from that story like it's an inside source or something…"

Chloe finished, "…and a day later, everyone's repeating what other writers wrote like it's just known, adding new shit, but they don't even bother to name each other's stories as the sources anymore. Sucks, but - is what it is. One day and two degrees of separation are all it takes to turn total bullcrap into facts. Meanwhile, cable news covers their viewer's tweets like they're profound revelations. Shit…you know, you should be super-happy you can't hear what's going on with talk radio, streams and podcasts right now."

"What?"

Chloe dropped her head, locked eyes. "Well, I just said be _glad_ you can't…but… Um." In her best faux-announcer-voice, "The time is now. Somewhere…near the bottom of the barrel…thousands of angry, jostling dicks argue about the dangers of private mercenary armies…"

Max bobbed her head from one side to the other. "Well, to be fair, we kinda feel the same way. But…" She shook her head. "…that's not at all what _we_ have."

" _They_ say we look and quack, so… Fuck it. I have their call-in number. This is our chance? We could go on air _right now_ and correct everyone. Explain _in detail_ why it is that neither of us would _ever require_ an army…"

Max stared at a spot over Chloe's head, eyes crossing. Deadpanned, "That's our whole problem, in a nutshell. That, right there."

Chloe stretched. "Or our solution. Come clean. Not like you can't undo it."

"Ehn. Sounds like work."

"Good times. And…oh. Charming extremes. A new caller is concerned about the physical dangers to the authorities when they go storming our front doors, cause…already talking about storming our front doors - nice…and a few others arguing back about jack-booted thugs and conspiracy connections to 'other' cults and standoffs, black helicopters and HAARP weather control weapons, mixed with diatribes about the evils of _any_ federal government, positioned against brainwashing, and now they're bringing Jesus into it, and it's just all kindof—"

"Dispiriting?"

"Was gonna say batshit mosh pit. Cause, you know, it rhymes? But…dealing with trolls with audience, dude. What else are they gonna do but stir the pot. That was only one show and only a few minutes of _delightfully_ entertaining eavesdropping." Chloe sent her eyes in different directions, tongue hanging out of her mouth.

Max slumped in her chair. "So, we've got super-angrypants arguments, about us, among strangers who have strong opinions, low information, and a global soapbox. Check. I can't. Can't put that shit in my brain right now. Just gonna make me mad. This is…Jillian's crazy-ass world anyway. Not ours. She can deal." Max waved off, dipped a chip into the mystery green salsa. Tasted it. Made a face. Recovered. "I'll take staring down bad-guy armies in person any day."

On the other side of the half-wall behind Max, a group of young office workers opened the front door, joined the back of the line. Left it open as they moved ahead. Chloe caught the chill. Impatient, she stared at them. Under her breath, muttered "Close-the-damn-door!" They didn't notice. She gave it a little mental push. Swung closed. _Trying to make me manage my own damn body temp? Hell's wrong with you people?_

She tapped the table, coming back to their conversation. "That…that is kinda the point though, right, Max? Standoff, toe to toe, they lose, and they know it. Only move is not to play. Your offer to them. Or change the battlefield, which seems like their response? Now we're in a guerrilla war, being slowly pecked to death by ducks. With words, I mean. Torturing metaphors, other horrors. They're making this crazy shit part of our world whether we wanted it or not—"

Max, interjected, "Something something stepped into a war with the Cabal?"

Chloe drummed a little 'bu-dum-dump' on the table. "Cute. And…eerily apropos."

She grabbed a chip, tried to dip it, but Max was already there. Bounced. "We need some chip-traffic control all up in here."

Max grinned. "Contested salsa-airspace. _No fly zone!_ "

Chloe pinched her chip by the flat side, aimed the pointy end toward Max. "You better watch yourself. I'll contested-salsa-airspace _all over_ your ass, Caulfield."

"Promises." Max bit her lip, winked, popped the chip in her mouth, grabbed another, angling it pointy-corner out. Poked at Chloe's chip with her own. "I shal-enge you to a doo-el," she crunched.

"Feint! Parry! Parry!" Chloe poked back. Underhand, on the sly, she swiped another chip from the bowl, auguring it into the contested salsa dish. The table wobbled. "Crash landing!" Switching hands, she picked it up, rescued it with her mouth. One arm up in victory.

Max laughed, "Eject, chip! Eject! _Cheater!_ Oh my god, you're such a cheater!" She pushed back from the table in playful disgust.

"Not cheating - strategy! You always fall for the distraction," Chloe laughed, crunched again.

Max locked eyes, leaned back in. "You really wanna do this? Round two." Reached for a second chip.

Still laughing, Chloe dropped hers, held out her hands. "Alright, alright. You win! Brat."

"You're too easy."

"Only for you." Chloe stuck out her chip-covered tongue.

"Ew. No." Max dipped a chip in one-sided celebration. "And…on that note, wonder what other fun and startling new facts we'll learn about ourselves tomorrow?"

Chloe leaned on her arm. _How to phrase this?_ "Uh. I know you're joking, but…Jilli said some pathetic assclown was floating some kinda conspiracy idea about how New Year's was all an inside job. I…I know."

Max closed her eyes, held the bridge of her nose. "I'm…almost surprised it took this long."

"Right? So, you know, that should be fun. Probably hit before the end of today. Exhibit 'A' includes an out-of-context transcript leaked from your surprise appearance at the bail hearing for the shooty-dudes. Before you guys went off the record in back."

Max reached for a chip. "Least the court reporter didn't get that part."

Chloe chuckled. "That might have helped us if people heard the whole thing. Although I'm sure there'd be some contingent…media-ready, overflowing with piss and manufactured outrage. _Chief of police, judge, and local cult-leader conspire to ensure a fair and reasonable bail is set for the accused?_ Not like the whole 'hostage blackmail by the secret dickbag society' thing made the papers."

The server brought over their plates and drinks. Took their order number.

"Thanks."

"Gracias."

"…or the rescues. _Exigent circumstances_ , they called it. Some of the right people knew at least." Max grappled with her taco. "Having the Chief as an ally helped. Well, you know what… _fuck it,_ " she laughed. "Whatever. I just can't. This whole thing is getting so stupid and kinda outta control." Shrugged.

Chloe took a small bite, stated the obvious. "You've been pretty light all day. Magic 8-ball says you made up your mind a while ago. To go back."

Max glanced at Chloe, pointed to her mouth, finished chewing before responding. "Oh, yeah. Totally. Mostly deciding between rewinding to Sunday night with Jillian's prep work, or avoiding the whole thing by jumping back and leaving myself a note to nope out of the interview altogether."

Chloe, sheepish. "I know this is selfish and all, but I'd rather not lose any memories of our mini-vacay. If we don't have to. If you're taking requests."

Max nodded. "I know. I was thinking thoughts earlier. I don't wanna lose our time or our chats either. Sounds like we blow off Juliet? Nix the interview?"

"Nicely?"

"Prolly the best way to avoid this runaway cascade of cereal aggravation. Plus, some people really got hurt, or might even be dead at this point. And…speaking of hurt. We both know from experience _exactly_ what Juliet has to be feeling right now, wherever she is." Max tilted, leaned, took another bite of her taco. Stuff fell out the back.

Chloe pointed at the taco-fall on Max's plate. "Not something I'd wish on her permanent emotional record."

"Agreed. We can't leave her out there like this. I have a feeling she's been dealing with enough. Maybe not, I don't…"

Chloe, too casually, "I feel like you've done this before. With me?"

"Course." Max didn't expand.

Chloe stared off. _With everything going on, not the day to pull that thread. Not like I'd remember anyway._

"I hope it's that easy, Max. Have this nagging worry though, like it might not be so simple. There's _something_ we don't see yet."

"I'm hoping our efforts this afternoon clarify things before I bounce back, but you already have a working theory?"

 _Always._ "A couple. Rough. One of the spots we're heading later, it's a junkyard in Hunts Point. Bronx. I'll show you the map before we leave, but it's where one of the bad-guy vans ended up."

"The end of the video trail?"

Chloe nodded. "One of them. Yeah. It's weird. Like, the edits to all the video trails cut off after a half hour, except for Juliet's. Everyone else's goes back to normal video, but she vanishes completely. Should have been picked up _somewhere_ down the line. Even erased, but nothing. And no more artifacts anywhere after the train, either. So…unless she's been hiding in a subway bathroom stall for four days, or these peeps _suddenly_ got _way better_ at masking their selective digital erasures—"

Max jumped ahead. "—and only used their new skills on _her_ trail… You think someone wanted us to find this. To see." She set down her partial taco, careful not to let it flop sideways, reached for her drink.

"I'm starting to think those video flaws were intentionally left behind. Near-invisible breadcrumbs. If they were capable of doing it _without_ leaving them, which they apparently were. It's like whoever fucked with the recordings had an _intention_. I don't know how else to describe it, but yeah, I think maybe they wanted us, you and me, to know what happened that morning. And wanted us to know that Juliet got away, and maybe point us in the direction of some bad guys." Chloe took another bite. "That's everything they left behind. And not sure who else it could have been for."

Max looked concerned, "But _without_ letting us know where Juliet is? Hiding her from us too? Interesting choice. What's _that_ all about?"

* * *

 **Juliet** fidgeted with the phone. She was more together than she'd been in days past, but her short nap didn't take much of the edge off her exhaustion. Waited half the morning for someone to reply over the secure chat app they pre-installed.

Her clothes hung in front of the wall heater. She didn't find anything suitable in any of bedrooms, so she finally caved, hand washed hers in the sink.

She snuggled under a thick, scratchy blanket, gripping the phone. Waiting.

Her life now.

Waiting.

A buzz.

:: I'm here.

 _Finally!_

Juliet had a list. _First, who._ She worked her fingers free of the blanket, typed out, 'What do I call you?'

:: Hi to you, too. I'm not the only one here. But when I'm on, you might call me Ian.

JW:: Was it you who handed me the phone Monday?

Ian:: No. He was only a man, hired for that purpose.

Despite the trauma of her ordeal, Juliet was still Juliet. Safe enough for the moment, and with nothing else to do. She couldn't turn off the part of her brain that needed to understand. Needed to assemble the pieces of the story in her head.

 _It's more than one person. A…collective. It's in their name, Jules. They said before. Pay attention._

JW:: Why me? Who were they? What did they want? And how did you know?

Ian:: We anticipated your questions, and I'd very much like to help you feel better. But I don't have all of the answers to share with you. There's much we don't know.

JW:: Why are you helping me?

Ian:: We already told you. It's crucial that you're safe.

JW: That wasn't an answer.

Ian:: It was.

Juliet didn't reply.

Ian:: You needed help, and it's our turn to help. Who can say? Perhaps a stranger will come along who needs your help one day, and then it will be your turn. Wouldn't that be something?

Thought about her next question. Sidelined it for the most important one.

JW:: When can I go to the police? Go home?

Ian:: It's best if you remain where you are. We cannot guarantee the honor of every official who may become aware of you. They continue to search for you.

Ian:: Ember also brightens with companionship.

JW:: Ember?

Ian:: The marmalade mammal you've been feeding. (-:

 _That's her name. Ember._

Ian:: We have more time to chat later. I only wanted to check on you, remind you that you're not alone, and to reassure you that we're not ignoring you. But I have only a moment. There are others who will need our help today.

JW:: Wait! When will you be on again?

Ian:: Tonight. After dark. Take care. If there is an emergency, say so here. Someone will see to you.

JW:: Thank you. Talk later?

Ian:: Hej då

Juliet set the phone aside. Propped her head on her arm, thinking, layering in new detail.

 _That was unsatisfying._

 _His diction was unusual…and his goodbye at the end. ESL? That makes sense if he's in some kind of international hacker group. They're probably all remote. Someone is loading the baskets and flying the drone, though. Hired? He wouldn't say who they were, or why any of this is happening to me._

 _But if he doesn't_ _ **know**_ _who those men were or what this is about, then how did they know anything about me at all? I don't understand._

 _At least we've confirmed that you're not going anywhere tonight._

Aloud, she whispered, "Just you and me today… _Ember_. Nice to meet you. Who do you belong to? Why did they leave you here by yourself? I have so many questions."

Ember twitched her ears, lifted her head.

Juliet rubbed her nose, the 'M' mark on her forehead.

"Hungry too? You know, don't you? You have all the answers somewhere in there."

Her head crashed back down. Tucked under, exposing her chin.

"If I taught you to speak, what would you say?"

 _Probably 'feed me.'_

* * *

 **Chloe** shrugged. "It doesn't make a lot of sense to hide her from us, does it? That shit bugs." She took a bite.

Max stopped eating, leaned on her elbows. "We getting to the theory part of your theory soon? I have my own; I'm just curious."

Chloe, eyes up, "Theory number one - kindof a duh - there are FutureUs fingerprints all over this, right?"

Max hesitated. "Maybe. Not super-sure about _that_. If that _was_ us, I don't know when it could have been. We were off-world the whole time. Did I go missing Monday?"

Chloe double-checked. "No…which…is a…minor flaw in that theory."

Max shrugged, "I don't have any mystery gaps in my memory, either. Can usually tell. And since I can't be two places at once, I'm out. I mean, that maybe leaves open the possibility for an extra _you_ running around in short pants somewhere, but—"

Chloe laughed, "Pretty sure I'd have noticed that."

"Well, love, without more information, it remains…" Max hand-waved, " _…a mystery._ " She took another casual bite.

"Wait - what was your theory?" Chloe sipped.

"It's probably nothing. Tell you later if I'm right."

Chloe squinted. "That's so not cool, dude. I showed you mine. Again. Grrr. Fine. You don't get to hear the alternate I've been working on."

Max chewed in silence.

"Not taking the bait, huh. K. Uh. No, but I don't know, Max. If it _was_ us, I just kinda wish we'd said hi or something. Basic cover-note, whatevs? So we'd know, I mean, instead of these lame-ass games that only leave us wondering."

"If it _was_ us, you made that choice _not_ to say hi, Chlo. So there must be reasons. The same kind we'd usually have, prolly."

"Lame…but…yeah. Maybe…might not be us after all. I mean, why would we even bother if you're already going back to head the whole thing off? If the timeline's a bust? Wasted effort. Flaw two in that theory." Chloe shrugged, took a swig.

"Dunno. It's all speculation. Over delicious tacos. These are good, by the way. But, like, maybe…maybe we've been in more than one loop? What if…what if I didn't end up going back without knowing for sure that something bad happened to Juliet? Or the other way - that she was okay? Or maybe I dropped back to change things but knew more than I should, and something else went wrong? Either way, what if our future selves had to go back again and fix something new in our _collective_ past to compensate? If it was a shared moment in time on the way to a different future, the ripples should still pass forward through both possible futures together. Only, what looks like noise in the first pass might be there to change things in the second?"

Chloe raised an eyebrow. "That's an interesting thought. Go back far enough, and _everything_ carries forward. But not everything we see would necessarily make sense in the first pass. Gotta admit that's something. Might also bolster my alternate theory that I'm totally not telling you about now."

"Meanie! Suppose it's too late for me to share, huh?" Max grinned.

"Nope. Had your chance. Nothing you can do. But, I don't know, in a way, it's almost exactly like us caching stuff with Nelson back in the 80's. Outside the influence of anything we've messed with in our lifetimes…"

"Yeah. And see? Precedence for leapfrogging through wider loops."

Chloe tried to ignore the line outside. People looking in. Splattered some bottled hot sauce on her next taco. "Although that might imply our future selves are more active manipulating our past **and** present to reshape their future than we've maybe considered. Us, not just world events around us. If that's true, could there be different, even more future versions of them, changing the changes that FutureUs made to NowUs? If they fucked it up? Or even _More_ -More FutureUs, changing back what FutureUs did to PastUs or NowUs? Where does it stop? Like these endless waves of leviathan Maxes and Chloes out there billions of years from now, just fuckin' around, tromping back and forth through our lives? Would we even know?"

"Nope." Max shrugged without commitment. Chomped a chip full of rescued taco droppings.

Chloe squinted. "I'm concerned you don't seem super-bothered by this, Max." She gave in, scanned the crowd outside. Social profiles, military and police records. Nothing weird. Just people.

"I can tell. What can I say? If it _is_ them, I trust FutureUs. Whatever it is, it's working out okay. I mean…" Max dipped another chip in her beans. "Obviously, complications and a few rough patches, that's what _all_ the navigation we do is for, right? But we're good so far."

Chloe frowned, fidgeted. "Irritates me on some fundamental level when I think about it. I don't like being manipulated. Even if it _is_ by myself, or us…or…you know?" Chloe tossed her fork on her plate with a clank. Was louder than she intended.

"We do it all the time, Chloe," Max laughed softly. "I mean, that's like our one and only job. Every rewind. Every note. The company. Every invention you introduce out of time. Your entire freakin' brain? This whole timeline's one giant manipulation. That's the point."

Chloe crossed her arms. "Okay - that's…duh. Didn't mean it like that, genius. Meant _us_. It's…example - okay, like this - this has been bugging me. Back to Lombard." Chloe stated the self-evident. Waited for Max to catch up.

"What about it? We know that was FutureUs, messing with the past."

"But _why?_ " Chloe raised her eyebrows.

Max, puzzled, "You said it was mostly for safekeeping of the cube. And the broken space-bad-guy-living-world-detector-galactic-GPS-gadget-murder-scoreboard-thingie?"

Chloe crossed her eyes. "You should totally consider a moonlighting career drafting our tech manuals." She pushed her plate back. Less hungry than she thought. "Maybe that's true…maybe that's all it is. Safekeeping. Awesome. If I trusted the Nelson-cube to present a complete picture - but I kinda don't have any way to know for sure, since they still won't fucking let me access most of it."

"I'm sure it's for a reason."

"There's a broken record." Chloe's narrowed her eyes. "I keep cycling on this, but we spend two years making Lombard a thing at some future point. Like, specifically. _Two years of our lives_. Okay, granted, we apparently got to hang out in the golden age of punk, while we hid some weird-ass alien tech near Area 51, which is kinda cool when I think about it. But, we could have just hidden shit under a random boulder somewhere. Anywhere. Rocked out. Engaged in some light, recreational trespass. Gone back home to whenever. One day away, boom, prolly would have been safe enough. For reals, dude. How many boulders are in the same place they were a few decades ago? Betting it's nearly all of them? But we made Lombard into a _company_ , to make real, physical things. Why? It's overkill if we just wanted to hide something. And so, looking at what they do, why make sensor tech?"

"You obviously have a destination I'm not seeing. Where are you going with this, love?" Max took a final sip of bright green. "What's on your brain?"

Chloe misjudged. Explained. "Day all the shit went down. You coming all the way back, the nuke, synthetics… I was helpless in their stupid underground lab, handcuffed to a stupid underground table watching all the streams. Worried, trying to understand what was what. And Margaret, you know, she was there with me, and she said something. Offhand comment, but it was shit she pulled from them. Said they _needed you_ for that whole charade. Like, obviously, they wanted a shot at taking you out too. And they managed to find another way to do the dirty bomb without you two years later, in the very first timeline. But she said they were using you, moving in the freeze, to get the nuke past the radiological detection ring surrounding the city."

Max looked outside. "That seems like forever ago. Doesn't it? And that made sense from their perspective."

Something flashed. Chloe glance up. The line outside stretched out of sight. Third woman over from the door. Must have recognized them. Casual. Her attention was already back on her lunch friends.

Chloe absently grabbed for a chip while erasing her photo. "Okay, but guess who made those sensors, smartypants? The ones DHS had networked all around the city? The ones they needed your help to get around?"

Max took a breath, looked up, back to Chloe, shrugged her shoulders. "Your not-so-subtle sheep-dogging points me to Lombard."

"Ding Ding. Every goddamn one of 'em."

"Okay, but—"

"Look, I'm not saying anything's for sure, Max. Could be pure freakin' coincidence. But…what if it's not? It fits, right? What if that whole fucking day, literally everything we went through before that, everything that happened leading up to you coming back, was _engineered?_ A new script or a new program. Instead of something else that would have happened if The Glorious Asshats didn't need to find a way around _our_ sensor net? What went down that day _without_ that ring in place? There are so many dependencies chained together - so what were we doing in the early 80's? If that was a manipulation to change things, was it really from the future that's ahead of us _now_? Or a completely different one, since altered? Do they even exist ahead anymore? _What pass are we really in?_ And it begs the question - was the cube, _the device_ , even meant for this timeline? Or is it intended for some future reboot? See what I mean? Like, how long have we been doing this shit?"

Max leaned back, straightened her utensils, her expression deadly serious. "With the _specific_ chain of events that led up to that day…I can promise you, Chloe - there's _zero possibility_ we had a hand in designing it. Not like that. Trust me on this, okay? But…that narrow premise aside, I'm with you in general. I'm positive we're being nudged around here and there. Obviously. That whole day was a giant push, from the future of another branch of reality at the very least. OtherChloe? So why _not_ more nudging from the future of this one too? Another little push? A sort of set - spike, between time zones and realities? I'd believe it. And which would have come first?

"Maybe having those sensors in place lined things up different. Maybe it wasn't even the _second_ pass through. And maybe that butterfly gathering didn't happen at all otherwise? Like what if there was some _specific_ event in there that was necessary for OtherChloe to find me that day. Maybe…I don't know…maybe without that ring, it took another hundred years for bits and pieces of me to weave back, blackout by blackout - only by then, it was too late to change anything? Maybe that was another hack. Speeding things up. And yeah, maybe…the rest isn't for us yet. But even if that's true it _will_ be for us when we're ready for it.

"Or maybe none of that's true. Can't know. But if it is us, that's the thing - I don't see any of this as a _problem_. It sounds super tangled, but in principal, it's no different to shit we do all the time, Chlo. They're big moves, sure, but I don't know that I buy coincidence. That ring part sounds super intentional when you say it like that. Granted, Lombard's stuff has also been deployed in other cities and countries. So there could be totally unrelated or secondary reasons for building it that we might not be aware of yet. And with the intricacies of shifting futures that you're suggesting, we may never understand - this might be all we get. But I'm sure it's something we'd totally do if we thought it would help us or other people. And I think that's the important point to remember. The 'why' behind it. The 'us' behind it. Ahead of it. However it looks from here."

Chloe bounced her leg under the table. "See, Max? That…annoys me. It honestly doesn't bother you at all? Like we're being pushed down rails? Through a hedge maze by some…hidden hand? Or on some looping track, over and over. I mean, fuck causality, right? What's our motivation to go back and do Lombard again when it's our turn in the future? Cause we know they did in our past? What if that's the only reason it happened? Cause it happened before? And if we don't do it again, does it create a paradox? Or does it only trap us in oscillating futures, trading places back and forth between disintegrating branches of reality like some freshman electrical circuit? Multiple versions of us doing and undoing each other's work, creating one version of them, then replacing with the other in an endless cycle of going nowhere. Do we fork? What if it's all just fucking random loops we're stuck repeating, cause we think it's supposed to go a certain way? Following our own tail, like some old TNG or SG-1 episode? Or worse - what if it's not what we think at all? _What if we're not who we think we are?"_

Max took Chloe's hand. Did that thing, that soft pressure, a slow roll of the webbing with her thumb.

The buzz of excess energy began to slip away.

"I don't believe we're in a maze, Chloe. But if we are, and if we're being guided, optimized, it's by versions of ourselves who maybe found the path through. Or at least have a better idea of which direction the exit is. Means we're the ones doing the pushing, and chances are, we'll know way more than we do right now. Like the shape of it from above or something."

"Okay - what if they only know the beginning and a bad end or two? But not the right end yet?"

Max nodded. "Sure. Might be a process. It might be possible that we're somewhere in the middle, and this is like a longer-form version of…how Hector describes his feedback cycles looping and looping until there's alignment between his look ahead and the real future he wants? You've heard him describe it. He's not aware of the feedback side…but if we're in something even remotely similar, if there are much longer iterative tuning loops for us, there would be no way to know for sure. But that might also be the only way."

Chloe wanted to interrupt. Held back, aware of the contradictions she felt. Almost willing Max to help her believe.

On the one hand, it would be a relief to know that their path was verified and highlighted by some perfect, shiny future version of them. But she couldn't visualize who they might be. Especially when every change their future selves made along the way carried the risk of changing who they ended up becoming. Like an ever changing series of Maxes and Chloes, making 'one shiny version' impossible.

The least confident part of Chloe, the one most willing to cede control, fought with the part that resented authority, mistrusted, refused to be at the mercy of others; the part that demanded she take control.

Max continued, "Maybe we're not done in one go. If that's the implication. Worse ideas out there than spending more time with you. So it doesn't matter to me. Long as we get there. But I trust us to have our hearts in the right place, Chloe. I do. I've said this before, but with what we're up against, for reals - the more help, the better. And I agree - it doesn't feel entirely random to me. But it's not perfect enough to feel like an optimal final pass either - and maybe there isn't such a thing. Channeling Voltaire, right?"

Chloe plucked the reference from context. "…the enemy of the good enough is the better?"

"Yeah. We'd have to have that thought eventually. But I feel this is going somewhere - which means it's a means to an end that you and I planned. And hopefully, by the time we finish, however long the trip we take together, we'll have lived it in a way that takes the least-bad path to the most good for everyone. And if better versions of us wanna help guide things in the right direction every once in a while, I'm so cool with that."

"I guess. I don't know." Wasn't exactly what Chloe meant. She considered redirecting, but the lunch crowd wrapped sideways along the sidewalk, and the open door sapped most of the heat from the room.

No closing it this time.

Louder inside with more people too. More energy. People clumped up past the counter, staring, waiting for tables to open up. Critically eyeballing their lack of chewing and their mostly empty plates.

 _Time to bail._

 _Revisit later._

Chloe gestured to Max's plate. "You done?"

"Yeah."

"Let's bounce." Chloe got up from the table, bussed their trays.

Max followed. Grabbed two complimentary churros on the way out.

They made their way through the crowd. Outside, they turned right, away from the line. Chloe scanned from above for somewhere out of the way, where they could make the jump unseen.

Max caught up. "Where to?"

"Quick stop in downtown Brooklyn next." Chloe led Max into a service alley between skyscrapers, behind a bin. Her arm lit, projecting a map highlighting their destination.

"Got it. Rooftop entry?"

Chloe nodded. "Yes, please?"

* * *

 **Max** aimed. The world shifted, leaving them in an out of the way corner of a mid-rise rooftop in downtown Brooklyn. Unmolested snow covered everything in a hush.

 _Dark and gloomy over here too._

 _Could always carve a teeny hole in the clouds. Let in some sunshine just for us. Scare the hell out of literally everyone else, probably. We're resetting anyway. No. Or…I could keep us warm other ways and leave the poor clouds alone._

Chloe ran a dozen steps, kicked her feet out, slid over a snow-covered duct blocking her way to the far side of the roof. Stopped, turned. "That was fun. And thanks again. For hanging, helping me today."

Max gave her the thumbs up. "Course. What are we up to here?" Max followed in Chloe's footsteps, only slower, with more scooting and less sliding.

"You and I, my love, are going to do a quick in-and-out of an office down on the 8th floor. I want to get some mugshots of some of their peeps, but there aren't any windows. Once I can follow their face-trails, I'll figure out who they are and how they relate to everything. Might answer a few lingering questions."

"Cool. What can I do?"

"I don't know. Tag along? Maybe look cute and lost when we hit reception?

"Wish I'd known. Could have worn my dinosaur shirt."

Chloe laughed. "You're good." She reached the stairwell door. Gripped the frozen knob, twisting until something inside it snapped with a hollow ping. The door opened out. She pulled, snowplowing.

Once they were in, they hit metal stairs, wrapped around and down. They boomed and echoed loudly with every step, or in Chloe's case, jump. Three floors. Stopped at a landing with a large painted '8'. Chloe motioned for Max to hang back. She held her palm to the door, pulsed. Her courtesy-holo showed Max the outlines of an empty hall beyond.

Chloe repeated her trick on the lock, opening them into an old, narrow hallway, near a set of restroom doors. The elevator lobby was in one direction. She took them in the other. Not much in the way of light. Half the overheads were out, and the half-window at the end of the hall was papered over.

Max scuffed her shoe. The floors were linoleum, worn, broken in places. The walls felt thin, broken up by frosted glass set in dark oak doors. "This is like something out of a noir detective show."

"Right? Practically in black and white. Here. 801b." Chloe tapped the number painted on the glass.

Max had to squint. There was no light shining through. "Lunch break?"

Chloe didn't reply. Tried the knob. "Locked." She held up her hand. Wiped the grime on her sleeve. "I don't think this door's been opened in a while. Shit. We might be chasing a fake address."

Max leaned against the far wall. "Let's see what's inside. Timeline's going anyway."

"Right." Chloe twisted the knob. A familiar ping. The door didn't open. Chloe put her shoulder into it. Finally gave with a snap and groan. They entered. Something smelled odd; somewhere between dust and ozone. The air was warm at least.

Max felt around for a light switch. Flicked it on.

Some of the overhead fluorescents came to life with clicks and pops and a sickly green. As many didn't do anything at all. There was nothing in the lobby. No furniture. Only a few doors.

Chloe checked. All but one opened to small, empty rooms. The last was the exception, opening to a space that must have been half of the 8th floor. And some portion of an adjoining building, by the look of the roughly half-demolished walls between them. Whatever lay beyond was hidden in shadows.

The volume was bare, save for a dozen tall equipment racks in the center, ringed like some kind of high-precision indoor metal-henge. Square concrete pillars, exposed ceilings, broken flooring. Large braids of wires, plastic wrapped in shiny-grey and as thick as a leg, snaked away from the racks along the ground in ten directions. Waves of smaller black bundles radiated between them. Some split, plunging through holes in the walls or ceiling, others through the floor, while some remained whole, continued around corners or into the next building to disappear out of view.

"Chlo?"

Chloe shoved her hands in her front pants pockets. Silent. "…I did not see this one coming. Gimmie a sec."

Max approached the broken wall to the next building. Dark. "Should have brought my camera. Rare event to see you surprised. Easy question first then? Where are we?"

"Sorry, Max. A money trail led to this address. Through it, at least. I thought it was probably a blind, but this is weirder." Chloe went to the center, between racks. "Huh. Vexing."

"As in actual Vex?" Max chuckled, stepping over a thick wire run.

"No…these are damn expensive pirate racks though."

"Yar." Max made her index finger into a hook, wobbled it around, covered her other eye with her other hand.

"More…ARRRR. All these bundles are coming in from other floors, buildings, and up from the street level. Micro-printing on the cables in the big runs says they're Cat 8 Ethernet - that spec won't even be approved for another four months. Probably 7's, marked up for the suckers. The others are fiber bundles. Wait…yeah, that's why - we're over a backbone trunk. These are guerrilla splices into the fiber, on a loop up from underground. Massive bit flow pumping through here, but I'm not sure what the purpose is. Equipment's all basic IXP territory…exchange class shit…wave division repeaters...switches…transceivers…if I had to guess, this is some kind of splitter, like a man-in-the-middle attack on a section of backbone, probably snarfing before retransmitting, but I can't be sure. Looks different from the big NSA taps in the carrier exchanges. And there's no buffering or storage here… It's real-time only. Doesn't make any sense. The gear looks modified, but…I'm not sure….what… Okay. I've seen enough. The logic will be in the software. That'll tell me what's up."

Max bent down to examine a cable bunch more closely. "Reminds me of old-school artificial muscle fibers, braided like this. You see what it's doing in there yet?"

"There's no wireless, no console. Need access to eyeball the code. Watch it run. Maybe dupe a traffic sample from one of the switches at least, see if it's being altered or… But I'm not sure where it's headed, or how to get in here from outside, exactly. Can you pop into my office real quick and grab the blue USB stick that's in my middle drawer? It's full of tiny robots. I can use it to infiltrate, get what I need. I promise you'll be my favorite for the rest of the day?"

"I'm already your favorite, but sure." Max folded to Chloe's office, back at HQ, grabbed the USB device from her desk and returned. Tossed it to her underhand. "This the one?"

"Yeah. Perf." Chloe caught it, plugged it into an open USB port. The blue LED on the end blinked. She stepped back, crossed her arms. "Okay. Autopilot." Turned to Max. "We can chill here, in this lovely environment, I guess? Or go out, grab a coffee. Little guys will take a minute to work their magic, plus I wanna get a decent sample onto the mini-cube inside. We got ten, fifteen minutes to kill?"

"Cool. Nowhere I need to be. Café du Jardin ok?" Max skipped to Chloe. "If they're still open?"

"Sorry, babe. They close at six, their time. Noon here, that's now. But…hang on - no, maybe a save. Looks like Aya's still hanging out, serving a couple stragglers. That's why. Her man's running late. Yeah, we're cool. We got a good twenty minutes 'til she goes lights out."

* * *

 **Chloe** stopped short of the open door.

The picture window reflected the old stone pillars, the red and orange skies over le Jardin du Palais Royal. Overhead lights inside the cafe broke through, complimented the sunset.

Wiping the counter, Aya glanced over. Blew a tangle of hair from her eyes. Newly bleached tips popped against her golden-brown skin.

Chloe pointed to the clock, made apologetic 'it's okay?' gestures.

She nodded, waved them in.

The other late patrons were seated outside.

Chloe bounded in, leaned, folded her arms on the raised corner display case. "Bonsoir Aya! Un café s'il vous plaît?"

The air inside archived the dense aromas of ground coffees, pastries, and sweets.

"Hello, Chloe. Hello Maxine. Do you mind, if we switch to English? I feel I should practice with a more friendly audience than the tourists before my trip? Although, by then I will be one of them."

Aya was one of the few people Max never tried to correct. Chloe figured it was the way she said _Maxine._ Her Ivorian accent was a joy. Chloe teased Max after the first time, but she brushed it off.

"Business is still good then? Where are you guys going this time?" Chloe rested her chin on her folded forearms.

Aya filled the filter with freshly ground coffee. "The season is slow, but it's soon busy. I have to hire some new helper for spring when I come back. Until then, I'm very excited that we finally go to Sydney, in Australia."

Max smiled. "It's beautiful. I'm sure you'll love it. When?"

"Not for two weeks? The calendar's pages cannot move fast enough."

"Should be nice and warm for you guys. 25, at least?" Chloe switched to the more common Celsius.

"I'm glad of that. We're tired of the winter, and I want to stay in the sun and warm water and see the big sharks up close! We're gone for a week this time. We'll share pictures."

Max glanced at the menu board. "Sharks used to terrify me."

Chloe let out a 'ba-dum' under her breath.

Max didn't react.

"But not afraid now?" Aya poured hot water.

"The world is their home too. It wouldn't be the same if they were gone."

Aya nodded. Smiled. "How are you both? It's been weeks since you come in."

Chloe chuckled, ducked down to examine the contents of the sweets case. "We're good. Causing trouble. You know, the usual."

"I wish I knew you were coming. I would have saved a madeleine for you, Maxine. We had lemon today. I ate one with my lunch when they were still warm. Do you want something also, dear?"

Max leaned on the counter, next to Chloe. "Would a chai latte be too much trouble this late? You don't have to if it's not convenient. I know you're closed."

"It's no trouble if a go cup is okay for both of you?"

"No, that would be perfect, thank you."

They spent a few more minutes catching up before Aya shooed them outside with their drinks, sugar cubes, and two small complimentary chocolate brownies, dusted with powdered sugar.

They left behind a generous tip for her kindness in staying, and well wishes for a great trip. Walked to their usual cafe table outside the iron fence, partway to the fountain. The rows of trees were bare, leaving the sky open. Max kept them warm. Sipped her latte.

Chloe broke pieces off her brownie.

The pleasantness of their surroundings aside, her mind lingered on their lunch chat. That ill-defined, scratchy sense of unease coming from somewhere behind the curtains. She didn't get it across right earlier.

After chomping down a couple of brownie chunks, she asked, "Max? Can we circle back to something?"

Max put down her cup. "Shoot."

"From lunch. When we were talking, you zoomed in on loop time as the thing, but that wasn't _exactly_ where I was coming from. That's not not a thing, but…my point, which I didn't do a good job with, was more about general questioning and… I guess it comes down to this. Are we being responsible enough, when making critical decisions on limited information, by replacing our best judgement with faith that some outside agent, some theoretical future version of ourselves, knows best?"

Max paused. "You don't trust us?"

Chloe rested her boot on the edge of Max's chair. Leaned back, hands in her jacket pockets. "It's not that, exactly. If I'm honest, I'm not sure who that 'us' is. But bigger picture, the more we go on faith, the less we think critically about things ourselves. The less reason to try to fill in our knowledge gaps ourselves. It puts us in a position where we're not the ones driving. Not from here."

Max leaned forward, hands on her go cup. "Are you worried about bad intentions then? Cause we still have agency - we're just exercising it from another position along the timeline, agreed?"

Chloe shrugged. "I'm just asking, are we naive to outsource our decisions to some unknown, idealized future version of ourselves, without question? That's all. We make mistakes all the fucking time. And who we are, might be, changes. And, like, I don't know - what if we're not even recognizably 'us' up ahead?"

"What do you mean, Chloe?" Max held her gaze.

It sounded uber-stupid the second she put the words together in her head, but she let them go because they still conveyed some of her feelings. "We're assuming it's us-us, but…there's no authentication, or way to check our intentions. Just wait…I'm not committed to this, just turning over rocks. But imagine all this leads to a darker future - what if we've been turned? Or what if we've changed too much? Over, say, geologic or cosmic timescales? Maybe for the worse? Or maybe worse - what if we've become so radically different that we're indifferent to anything but maintaining our future-present indifference. Ambivalent, Doctor Manhattan style, you know? It's like…that old Cure song… _'the further I get from the things that I care about, the less I care about how much further away I get.'_ Like erosion. That's no fuckin' bueno for the here and now. Or yeah, I guess, edge case, what if…what if right now, we're trusting in the best intentions of some unhinged, malevolent us from the Evil Mustache Universe or something completely—"

"Chloe," Max laughed. Caught herself, eyes twinkling. "Promise, I'm only laughing near you, not…come on. I know you're taking an extreme position to make your point, but look at where we are. They…we…seem kind of helpful. You've met FutureMe before. Did she have a mustache?"

 _Dammit._ "I've met some versions of near-future you…but…obviously, no. Not—"

"Okay then. No mustache, no Evil Mustache Universe. Hashtag Solved."

"But…I just—" _Holy shit why do I sound so fucking dumb right now?_

Max smiled, reached, palm on the table. "Chlo, I'm hardly an analyst or whatever, but…I know _you_. This isn't really about that, is it? Assuming the worst of us? Is it possible it's not about driving, or our intentions, so much as it is just _not knowing in general?_ Our new future. The answers. Feeling like we're responsible for how it all turns out, while none of us could be qualified… But, we're still miles ahead of everyone else on that score."

Chloe scooted forward, sat up.

Max pulled her hand back, gave her room. "You've always been good at solving mysteries - partly because you never really liked leaving space for a mystery to simply _be_. You go through these phases, sometimes, where I know you have to know absolutely everything. Right now. All of it."

Chloe shrugged. _Obviously._ "Don't you? With what's out there?"

"I actually _might_ know everything, Chlo. You've said it before. I mean, I probably do. Just, can't see it from my conscious lifeline, embedded in the linear flow of this universe. And who knows, maybe some inappropriate feeling of calm leaks through sometimes. You might know everything too, for all you know. You don't _know_ what's behind those locked memory vaults. In you from OtherChloe or the hidden parts of the cube Past-FutureUs left with Nelson. And I get it - I know that's gotta be a big part of it for you, every day. It's something right there, maybe all of the answers you want, and they've got this big red 'nope' sign plastered on, keeping them out of reach. I know it drives you crazy, babe. Especially with all of the other worries you've been processing. And that lack of patience, that drive, is part of what makes you so good - so persistent and amazing and brilliant at straining to see patterns and finding answers and getting at the cause and the truth of things. But—"

"Max - it's bugging the shit outta me." Chloe folded her hands on the table. Bounced them once. "It's right there, but totally cock-blocked. It's like there's this giant 'fuck you' from two futures. I can't —"

"But you know how this works, Chlo. You have to remind me _way_ more than I remind you - we'll know what we need to when we need to know it."

"Yeah. Control the variables, blah blah. I know it's right and it's necessary and all that shit. I do. I'm just sayin' it annoys me - that's all. You know, I feel like we spent the whole weekend talking around this, but…I'm still trying to guide this stupid machine of theirs over the finish line, so we can fix their stupid fucking alien space-shit device they apparently broke, for…reasons. But as it gets closer to being done - really done - it's getting _way_ too real. And yeah, it's got me thinking, _why_ , exactly? You know? What's next?" She threw up her hands. "I have no fuckin' clue what this thing's gonna do. Or what it might set in motion. Or…you know? Do you? That's what I'm saying. We're following limited instructions, but we don't know the _reasons._ And without knowing the reasons, I'm not sure it's 100% smart to blindly play along all the time. _We don't know them_ , which means we can't be _sure_ of their master plan. And without that, I can't guarantee it'll be _safe_."

"We'll be safe, Chlo."

"Are you _absolutely_ certain? You did a rewind, the day we found it, but it stayed stuck in the goddamn wall." Chloe rested her chin on her hands. "I'm…we may not be able to walk this back if shit goes bad. You know that, right? I'm worried. I think something about this scared 'em. This thing. And yet, they leave it for us with no intel, no help. It's like…a loaded gun that might also go thermonuclear if we touch it wrong. For real. If everything's shiny, why hold back secrets? It's as if…at the least bad, we've intentionally tied ourselves up here, and I…I don't understand _why_."

She'd been here before. Knowing that didn't always help. There were things she couldn't put a finger on, others she could. Max was so patient with her though; leading, but not leading.

True to form, Max soothed, "We know their master plan, Chloe. It's ours. And have we? Tied ourselves up? _Everything_ we've done has helped us. Everything." She shook her head. "You were given two-thirds of the secrets of the universe, and you're stressing that the last third is hidden for a while longer. When you have the brains to figure it on your own. Again. Where do you think this came from, if not you? Do you believe that you could put others in harm's way? That we would?" She reached, took Chloe's hand.

"That's my point though, Max. Can we afford to make assumptions about how similar they might be? It's an important question, and—"

"I hear you. But I think we're in a good place, all things considered. There are things I'd change, of course. Obviously. Probably always be true. But maybe there's more at play than your justifiable need for certainty. If we cheat, if we skip right to the end, to all the answers, from where we are at the beginning, or middle, we might miss everything that makes us the _us_ that makes it all the way to the end."

Chloe felt that hand-pressure again. Subtle. Calming. Without drilling a hole in her skin.

Max's voice was relaxed. "Chlo, you were the one always saying our thoughts and actions write themselves into us. Good and bad. That they change us. Even in the very beginning, remember? Seattle? Before any of this shit really took off? Darkside speech?"

"Yeah. Course. I—"

"It can be frustrating, but we still have to go through it, babe. And from time to time, that's gonna mean taking some things on faith. Cause we can't know everything, but we have to keep moving. It's what makes the future for all of us. Fate requires that we think our free thoughts and exercise our free will along the way. That's how our path through the universe gets written. It's how we get written."

Chloe flopped her other hand on top of Max's. "Even the bad stuff, huh?"

Max nodded.

Chloe saw something else in her expression, but it was gone in a blink. _Don't pull._

Chloe absently felt along the edge of the table with her free hand. Someone's initials, carved. "I get it. You're right. Look, maybe these feelings are just…a glitch in my Matrix. Wouldn't be the first time. I have manual control over basic things in there I maybe shouldn't, and I don't know. Tinkering, tuning. Whatever.

"But it seems to me, if there's a version of us out there somewhere in time with all these answers, it would be really fucking great if we dropped the bullshit and laid it out for us. Told us _what to do, or at the bare minimum, why._ Instead of dancing around leaving all these tiny, unclaimed breadcrumbs. All I'm sayin'. There's too much - it's too important to play all mysterious. And I feel like we're still only scratching the surface of the big picture out there. And even assuming they have pure intentions up ahead, what if _we_ fuck it up? What if _I_ fuck it up? And what if you can't take it back after? Am I way off the grid here? You do see where I'm coming from with this, right?"

Max nodded, her eyes attentive. "I do. I understand you. I can't give you absolutes. For me, it's like, when I'm in my best, most centered frame of mind, I try to see the journey as the journey. Maybe it's a curse or luxury of a little more time and experience, or maybe I've grown more comfortable with ambiguity over the years. Even the last branch - as heartbreakingly shit as that was sometimes, and…as much of that as I'd cut from…even my own past…part of me knows it was necessary to go through, as we did, to get us where we are - as exactly _who_ we are. For better or worse. Without the walk, the bumps, the scares, all that wonder and beauty - we don't ever become. So how could we hope to influence anyone else to do the same? Pushing through our fears, and the empathy that brings - it matters. How could any of the good we're trying to achieve come to be without that?"

Chloe tried again to picture them together, what they'd be like. Off somewhere in deep time. Couldn't. Frustrating. Always came back to some…imagined version of OtherChloe, out there on her own. _Failure of imagination…_ "What do you think they talk about in the mornings? Over Future-bacon and Space-waffles or whatever?"

Max smiled. "They still have to be as silly and dumb as we are sometimes. Don't they?"

Chloe rested her head on her arm, both on the table. "God, I hope so. Just knowing that for sure would be enough. Swear. Would help me feel so much more connected to them. But…I'd still love to be a fly on their whiteboards for a day."

"Hmmm." Max pondered. "You think they'll use whiteboards? And not some kinda seven-dimensional organic holograms made of ghost-bees or something? Look, I'm not sure we have any relevant frame of reference for understanding what they might be, honestly. Depending on how far. I mostly have to picture them pretty much exactly like us, just a little more down the road. That's my instinct. But…I don't _know._

"I think, if we were looking back at us…if they're looking back at us…they're probably trying to be helpful, while preserving certain elements of their own past, present, and future. Maybe curating their own experience a little. Through us. Maybe that's worth something too. Even a little inconvenience or worry for you and me now and again. Pretty sure we owe them. And I don't know if there are limits to how much we can interfere with ourselves and our own history and our own…identity and person-ness before time becomes a closed loop. Back to what you said earlier about chickens and eggs, I think any sense of objective causality might be less obvious from our limited viewpoint here."

"It's a 4-d thing. You know…with some waves." Chloe stuck out her tongue.

"See? And with other worlds, objects in higher spaces. We can't know what complications they need to work around. Or what might be impossible to change." Max brushed the hair from Chloe's face.

 _Tired._ "Yeah. I need this sugar to kick in."

Max nodded. "We were out late. I'm hitting post-lunch-pre-tea coma territory myself, but, I mean…there is such a thing as paradox-free timeline integrity to maintain. That alone…gotta give 'em benefit of the doubt for that at least."

Chloe lifted her head. "Cheater. OtherChloe gave you that paradox integrity speech… But, you guys were fighting about a time-traveling microwave that cooked food before you put it in? You know that wouldn't ever really—"

Max grinned. "Heh. Oh man, that was so… Standing tachyon waves. We argued about that for weeks. I was so convinced they could be real. Totally forgot. Funny. Look, closing the loop…no pun…I'm not saying you should let go of this part of you that wants everything solved. Or that needs control. I know you can't. And you shouldn't. The answers to the questions are important. But you know your brain as well as I do. And as awesome as it is, and as you are, you know that your level of curiosity, focus and drive to 'know' come with natural tensions too. It's part of how you work. So knowing that, maybe, try to change it up a little, so you don't irritate yourself as much along the way? Soft styles for a while instead of hard? Let go a little? Try to flow with the universe instead of against it? Something. You should join me on the roof some morning for Tai Chi. Might help."

"Maybe for chai tea."

"Puny."

Chloe flopped her head back on her arm. Voice slower. "No, see - I tried tai chi with you once before. Didn't do anything then, won't now. It's like piano for me. You know? I have the mechanics down. Every nuance, every timing, every movement is technically perfect. I can simulate the subtleties of any of the old masters. But…that's not really mine. Don't get the same kinds of feelings off it that you do."

Max paused. "Maybe you should forget? Can you…cordon it off somehow? Is it possible?"

"Maybe? Why?"

"Then you could try to learn it again, but from scratch this time? Make it more yours? Least to start?"

 _Interesting._ "You think the 'feeling' part might depend on the long, boring-ass process of learning shit the hard way?" Chloe laughed.

Max smiled. Squeezed. "Doesn't seem like it came from waking up one day with the textbook-perfect technique of thousands of other virtuosos, does it? You're not a music box with different scrolls to swap out, Chlo, you're a person. Maybe you need to find your own voice. There are deeper lessons in the struggles. In trying. Failing. Connecting the dots yourself. Applying the discipline necessary to stick with something until you master it. It's a longer road, with plenty of downtime for introspection along the way. Was for me, anyway. Might be worth a shot? Experiment, at least? You'll learn faster cause you're you. And then, you could reclaim your ultimate technical perfection after you feel like you have your own basic feels down. Maybe that's a kind of, I don't know, middle-ground?"

 _Sneaky._ Chloe raised her head again, squinted. "I feel like you're working up to some sort of parallel here."

"Busted." Max chuckled. Drummed fingers on her cup. "Three parallels, actually. Maybe…it's not the same if somebody hands it to us. Like we don't know it in the same way. Doing something ourselves adds meaning. But it also comes with frustration and uncertainty and probably requires a little motivating fear, too. You know more about brain rewiring than I ever will. But you're Chloe Price. You don't need _FutureUs_ to hand anything to you. You never have."

Chloe held back a smile at her trap. "I feel like this is at odds with the whole 'interference patterns, accept your gifts and roll with it' thing? …what happened to 'trust us'?" She nibbled triumphantly on her remaining brownie wreckage.

Max stared off into space. "Come on. You're capable of reconciling contradictory truths. And I do trust. All of us, wherever." Returned attention to Chloe. "But that's only cause I trust you. And me. Here. Now. Maybe it's like, a hybrid between what you said and something Sophie bounced off me last weekend. We determine who we become - partly by choosing what difficulties, failures or triumphs we put ourselves through. And partly by deciding what of that we focus on or let stick.

"If that's remotely true, then our chosen versions of 'us' are already out there ahead somewhere. Helping when they can. Gifts. Pointers. And maybe even hanging back a lot of the time, even when it sucks for us here. Cause we need it. You know? We haven't been perfect always, but I know with everything I am that you and I will never intentionally let each other down. Never give up on each other. So I have to extend that trust to them. They _are_ you and me. And I'm sure that's why they leave room for us to work things out on our own too. Just like we need to do with everyone else in the world. All over again.

"It's not a 'fuck you' from the future, Chlo. We would never, ever feel that way. It's a measure of trust. And maybe it's also what it takes to allow them to come to exist as they are, where and when they are. They trust us to solve these mysteries. So we have to solve them. They know we can do it. It has to be part of their plan. Just like our plans for everyone else. Sometimes they can find a way to help, and we should trust that. And other times, they have to know it's necessary for us to stress over it too if we're to become more than we are. To become them. That's our pattern. That's the **only** answer that makes any sense to me."

The sky above darkened to purples. A chill picked up.

 _Time to get going soon._

"I…know, Max. Maybe you're right… Evolution and diamonds and pressure and all. I feel like I've taken us down this same kind of rathole a few times. So…thanks for working through shit with me. Again. Always humbling and a little scary how much faith you put in me. And maybe a part of me fights against that for, you know, legacy reasons. I love how patient you are though. It means a lot to me. Always has. And sometimes, you know, I really envy how confident you are that we've got everything under control.

"There are moments, like last night, when I feel it too - so strong. Halfway to the next galaxy? Like, _the fuck?_ There's no metric. For real - how could _anything_ get in our way, right? And…then here we are, half a day later. I'm mildly aggravated at stupid shit, irritated by decisions I'll apparently make in the future, worried we might be headed straight downhill, picking up speed, and the wheels are coming off again."

Max gave Chloe a dismissive air-smack. Pushed back, stood up. "Those things aren't necessarily mutually exclusive, babe. Contradictions. I think it…I think all of this can also feel super unreal and abstract sometimes. It sounds like sci-fi nonsense to say stuff like this out loud - it's not normal-people conversation." She laughed. "And…we all have our moments. But little secret, I don't have questions about you. Trust has never been about faith in that way; I know you. I've always known you. It's what allows me to have confidence in your intentions. It's why I'd trust my life to _any_ version of Chloe Price out there. Hundred percent."

"Aw. Trying to make me rust?" Chloe pushed back, fake dabbed at her eyes.

"Shutup. No, it's like, same reason we know the world can fix themselves. We watched them do it once already. We're only here to make sure the evil empire doesn't force them to endure centuries of godawful fucking horror to get there. I know everything will be okay, Chlo. And I don't think feeling like we're in total control all the time is necessary to get where we're going. It might even prevent it. Foreknowledge can alter the future. I know it's a different feeling for you. And it's okay.

"I see it like there's this silent partnership between who we were, and us now, and who we become. All working for the same thing. That's so super-comforting to me in nearly every way."

Chloe dropped her head. Looked up at Max. "Tell me a story before we bail. Tell me how you see them? Make me believe it?" She smiled. Another old game.

Max came around to Chloe's side of the table. Held out her hand, pulling Chloe up. Led her partway to the central fountain. She stopped, turned, and pulled Chloe into a lingering hug, almost like a slow dance. Whispered in her ear, "Okay. It's like, somewhere out ahead of us, there are these two beautiful, badass idiots, and they're the ones - you know? They're the absolute _best_ we will ever, ever be. You and me at the end of time. The smartest, the kindest, wisest, most powerful of us - with all the knowledge we'll ever accumulate or could ever understand. With all the love we could ever contain." Max pulled back, her eyes finding Chloe's. "They're _real_ , Chloe. And even as we struggle here, fighting to understand, fighting to keep everyone else out of the darkness - with who knows how many horrible dangers waiting - they're out there somewhere too. And they're aware of _everything_. Watching over all of us. And they won't let us fail, because _we_ wouldn't let us fail.

"So…if we ever get into real trouble, like the kind that we can't handle - that's who's got _our_ backs. _They're_ the ones looking out _for us_. Like we are for others. Not doing everything for us, but, there, you know?" Max leaned into her again. "I'm okay letting go of the wheel now and again. Control. I know you fight it, and you know, with OtherChloe out there, and we've talked about all that. But I hope you can take away a little of that same hope I feel, at least. No matter what, believe we can do this, babe. If only you could see 'her' too; that beautiful idiot I see growing inside you."

Chloe broke the hug, stuck out her tongue.

Max laughed, "But for reals, Chlo, when I look at you, I see the best of us. Always have."

She met Max's eyes. Felt a chill.

 _Just the cold._

Chloe stuck her hands in her pockets. "Yeah. Well…when you put it like that…maybe makes me a little less annoyed at future us, I suppose."

Max locked arms with Chloe. "Help at all?"

"Oh, yeah. Wasn't a crisis, I just…yeah. Annoyed. Questioning. Little…light cafe conversation and shit. Post-taco chat?"

Max grinned. "Tacocat!"

"Don't be palindromatic." Chloe closed her eyes.

Max turned, pulled away from her. "Ugh. I'm so gonna leave you here."

Chloe laughed, pulled her back. "Sometimes…sometimes I think you might be good for me after all."

"Ya think?" Max scoffed, made a funny-face.

 _I really do._ "It's funny too, though, you know?"

"What?"

"Reminds me…how different we can be."

"Like how? Besides the obvious." Max saw a trashcan, threw her empty cup, heading for a miss.

Chloe gave it a slight mid-air redirect at the last second, landing it in the bin. "I don't know, just like…when you hurt or get upset, you retreat. Go looking for space. When I get worried or upset, I look for you."

Max winced. "Ouch."

Chloe put her arm around Max's shoulder. "No, not like that - not a criticism. Observation. You need solitude to process. I mostly need your help to stop. We're different, but I think we balance each other. There's usually food too. Drink. Usually? So that's always good." _Lighten things up._

Max, head down, "Does it make you sad though? That I don't always—"

Chloe held her tongue, gave her a quick, dismissive head shake. "No. Not anymore. I think it used to, but I usually know better. I don't know - guess I'm thankful I can always find you when I need you. You're like…that chirpy little voice outside my head." She laughed.

Max smiled. Lips parted. "Right here. Always. Stuck to you like a happy, sticky frog."

"Okay. That's just…weird."

" _You're_ weird…what? I mean, you're the one hearing voices outside your head."

"That's…you know those are…other people…I don't know why I bother. I'm done talking to you." Chloe let go, walked ahead. The gardens around them became a dense, steamy jungle. A noisy river divided the rocks, blocking her path forward. She kept going anyway.

"…ribit."

Behind her.

Chloe cracked a smile. "Freaky little goofball - _catch up!_ Take a wrong turn? Where are we?"

Max plowed into her from behind, wrapping arms around her waist. Circled to the front, stalling her momentum, blocking her from the river. Max pushed up on her toes, arms around Chloe's neck. Winked, leaned in, closed her eyes to give Chloe a proper kiss.

 _Lip mashing. Mmmm._

 _Like tea and brownie, only with…like…lip mashing._

 _Mmmm._

When Chloe opened her eyes, they were back on the 8th floor of a mid-rise in downtown Brooklyn.

Max took her side, linked arms as they continued toward the equipment racks. Finally said, "But I'm _your_ goofball. You know that?"

Chloe squeezed her. Grabbed the blinking drive, stuck it in her pocket. "Time delay. And whatever, chai-breath."

"Oh my god, sorry. Oops. I can totally rewind it!"

"Don't. Who knows how critical that chai-kiss was to making us who we'll need to be tomorrow?"

"You jerk!" Max swatted at her. "But I love you anyway." Hugged her waist tighter. "Alright. So we fed and watered The Chloe. Did a data-dump. Got all hopped up on sugar. Next stop. Where's this mythical junkyard of yours?"

* * *

 **Emily** chewed on the back of her pencil. Its rubber eraser was severed, long gone, the metal end bitten and crimped flat. Sharp. Familiar. Coppery in her mouth. She didn't hate it.

The lines on paper were sharp, clean. She could tell that much. But the subject fought with itself. Scenes jumping around on the page. Not really, but…maybe it was time for another nicotine half-patch.

 _Left shoulder this time._

Didn't want to repeat the jittery burn in her drawing-arm.

No music in her dorm room tonight. It was late. She was sleepy. There was no lights-out policy, not when they were working. But her door remained locked from outside.

She didn't know what it would be. Never did until after she finished. The paper was where it happened, not her mind's eye. But while they were still in progress, she experienced something akin to recognition-blindness. She had a feel for the quality, her confidence. Skill. But rarely the content.

Couldn't tell.

The sudden loud click startled her.

She jerked her head up. The door. The light on the card panel was green!

 _Another test?_

 _Another trap?_

 _Or?_

She glanced up at the cameras.

Red lights were off.

That _never_ happened.

Curious, cautious, she stepped into her slip-on shoes without pausing. Crept to the door. Tested the cold metal handle. Unlatched!

She opened it, poked her head through the crack. Scanned both directions along the dark, wood-paneled corridor. Camera lights were off in the hall too. Outside, to her left, Mira and Jason were already out of their rooms, crouched together under the ornate side-table with its stupid, nailed-down vase of weird, perpetually fresh flowers.

It was only the three of them. Mira was oldest. She waved Emily over. Same white hospital scrubs, slip-ons. It's all Emily had worn in the two or three years she'd been here. Easy to lose track.

Emily shrugged. Mouthed, "What are you doing?"

Jason joined Mira in rapid, silent 'come here' waves.

Emily shook her head, whispered, "No." Last time, they never made it past the hall. Got their music taken away and rations reduced for two weeks as punishment for leaving their rooms. She wasn't anxious to get in trouble again. _'An open door is no excuse for disobedience,'_ they said.

Mira rolled her eyes in an exaggerated huff. Pulled Jason across the hall with her. Grabbed Emily's arm. "Come on!"

Emily pulled back. "No. It'll be worse this time."

Another loud click startled all three of them. They dropped. The clicking continued, a pattern. Insistent. Beckoning.

"Look," Jason pointed to the end of the hall.

Exit door to the stairwell. The LED on the card panel pulsed green.

Jason raced down the hall, opened the door, disappeared from view for a moment. Opened it again, staying low. Excited, motioned for them to follow.

Mira pulled her. "Come on, Em. We have to."

She didn't trust it.

 _But if there's a chance to escape?_

 _To go home?_

* * *

 **Max** reached into her coat pocket, pulled out her glasses.

"No light show," said Chloe, turning to cross the road. "Sorry. All the cameras point out to the street, and nothing's covering the yard. Other than the low-res black and white on the register. Part of why I wanted to come down to this one. Digital trail stops at the front gate."

Max slid the glasses back in their protective case. Hopped off the curb to follow.

The meager blanket of snow couldn't quite manage to erase the contrast, the centuries of grime below the surface that proclaimed they were in a very different part of New York. Industrial. Old, brick warehouses. Black soot and cold grease. Each block was an island, a compound, isolated from the streets by tall surrounding walls of corrugated metal, stone or brick. For most properties, the only perimeter breach was a small door or unmarked rolling section along one of the four adjacent streets.

Chloe gave voice to Max's wandering thoughts. "Shit reminds me of Kansas. Few of those tiny, untouched farm towns. 'Member? Trying to wall themselves off from the riffraff."

Daylight fit the memory. With no structures around them more than two stories high, the low, featureless grey clouds felt somehow more oppressive, despite the brighter, more open skybox.

Max avoided stepping in the iced-over pothole the second time across. "We were the riffraff once. And yeah. That didn't ever really go their way, did it? Least Kansas was pretty. There's just _nothing_ living here. Not a single shred of green. No plants. Trees. Not even weeds."

"And yet, somehow, it manages to smell like a ripe, floral decay." Chloe stopped on the sidewalk, midpoint of the block. The only open space between the haphazard lines of parked cars going off in both directions. Faint outlines of faded signage marked the wall ahead as a gateway. What little pigment remained was an unhealthy shade of yellow over pale blue.

Max wasn't sure how people were supposed to get in. "See a buzzer anywhere?"

"Do we care?" Chloe shrugged.

Max caught up, touched Chloe's shoulder. "Oh. Yeah." Smiled. "Knock yourself out, babe."

Chloe pushed the gate sideways. Too much force. Came off its track with a shuddering clatter. "Downside of keeping to the DL all the time. Don't get to practice in the real world much, or cut loose in the open without looking over our shoulders at least. You know?"

"Yep. After you."

Chloe bowed, gestured for Max to proceed across the entryway. "Princess? You have my persimmons. After you, please."

"Tempting. I like persimmons." Max stood firm. Gestured ahead. "But after you. I insist."

"No, no. You should go."

Chloe could be stubborn. Max relented. "Fine. I'll go. Be here for weeks." Careful not to trip over the beaten metal track, Max entered the yard.

Ahead, an open, rectangular courtyard. A gigantic orange shredder and a black car crusher hunkered side by side at the far end. The ground was an uneven mix of broken tarmac, oily dirt, and frozen slurry. To the left, uncrushed cars stacked three high, forming a long wall. To the right, rusted lifts held suspended engines, transmissions, and other commonly salvaged parts, stripped, cleaned, and oiled for easy sale. Beyond, a ramshackle mobile office, with corner steps leading to the door. Elsewhere, as far as the eye could see, stacks of cars, some crushed flat, some not, forming walls, mazes, extending in all directions to the outer walls.

Max started toward the office.

"No one home," called Chloe.

A frantic scrabbling as two enormous dark blurs tore out from under the corner of the office trailer, ran full tilt for Max from only steps away. The first, somewhere between a Rottweiler and a great dane, leapt. A fast, oncoming train of black and brown and open mouth and flashing teeth. All its weight hit square in her shoulders, pushing her to the ground, splashing, knocking the air from her lungs. The second dog ran in low from the right, both went straight for her face, furiously licking. Energetic stubs led ghost tails and dog-butts in a wild chase from side to side.

Max screamed, face wet with slobber. "Gah! Stahp! Halp?!" Rising giggles.

Upside-down Chloe was almost to her. Dogs paid no attention.

Big sloppy tongues painted Max's throat and cheeks. "Ahhhhh! Pfffft! Hehehe!"

"Some watchdogs you guys turned out to be. Get her!" Chloe came in next to Max, put her hand down, laughing.

Max took it.

As Chloe lifted her up, the doggos stepped off, happy-barking. Continued excitedly pressing in, jumping, body-slamming, trying to lick her in mid-air. Big, open dog-smiles.

"Sorry. Didn't know they were there."

Max put her arms out, spun. "It's okay. I wanted greasy dog-print designs all over my jacket anyway." She slowed. "Okay, guys. I like you too. Come on. Calm. Down. No - down. Good doggies. Who's the big doggie? Who? Is it you? Or you?"

She and Chloe hadn't spent too much time around dogs in their younger lives. But much later, out in the wilds, they tended to attract strays. Most of them were, back then. A few of them stayed, sharing trails and shelters. Some for years. They were always partial to Max.

"Good dogs." They kept to the ground but followed Max, happy, waggy. Had collars, but weren't chained up or anything. Max checked them over. Well fed. Clean water by the trailer. _Could use some extra food out._ Sleep areas were raised and covered, with beds of thick blankets. No scars or signs of abuse. The smaller of the two was nowhere near 'small.' Something big and furry mixed with pit bull. Had that jaw, massive skull. All relative. Max glanced back at the gate, rustled him between his ears. "We should prolly…" Gestured with her eyes.

From a distance, Chloe lifted the gate back on its tracks, closed it.

Two hummingbird drones finally caught up overhead, slowing from their supersonic trip across the city and river. Hovered. Chloe sent them off to circle.

"Now that we have our bodyguards and tour guides, what are we looking for?" Max was once again knocked aside as the rottie pressed between her and Chloe, panting fog. "Hey." He weighed way more than she did. _Could prolly ride him like a horse._

Chloe might have had the same thought. Grinning, she pointed to the back-left corner of the block. "Thataway." She guided them through the light maze of cars.

Their drooly new friends went along for the walk. One stationed between them, while the other ran ahead and back, ahead and back, anticipating corners. Every few trips, they'd swap places.

"Such dogs. Much wow." Max amused herself with the old ref.

Caught Chloe rolling her eyes.

They made their way to the back corner.

Chloe pointed at a crushed van, stacked on top of a few others. "There. That's the one."

It was dark against the sky, squished. Hard to see anything meaningful. "What are you hoping to find?"

Chloe clambered up the opposite wall of cars to get a better view. "Hang on." One of the drones swooped in, hovered on the far side of the flattened vehicle to give her the full 360.

The accordioned steel skin groaned and popped as Chloe pulled and pushed from afar, lifting it back into a semblance of not-accordion. Shedding snow with each movement. The metal tore in a few places. Wasn't even close to van-shaped, all mangled and bent. Couple of feet taller when she stopped. Close enough that Chloe seemed satisfied. Hopped down.

"Here. Pickle-up, Max. You'll see."

Max rose a dozen feet into the air, drifted close to the ex-van. Bullet holes, all jagged. Dried blood on the floor track, hastily wiped. Their logo, wrinkled, stenciled onto the lower part of the door. "Dude. What the fuck? We don't even _have_ vans."

One of the dogs barked up at Max. Jumped.

She dropped, landing with her hand behind his ears, scratching.

He set his butt down, wagging out a dog-butt-angel in the mud.

Chloe leaned against a junker. "Yeah. Right? I noticed it in the last mile of clear video. Wanted to get a firsthand look at how they put it on. If it was a sticker or what. Chase the source. And catch some blood samples. Casings, usual CSI shit."

"What's your takeaway from all this?"

Chloe crossed her arms, closed her eyes. "Hang on. Last piece…wow. Okay. Shit. Sorry. Just found the owner's body. Of the junkyard. Dead in his bathroom. Staged to look like a suicide."

"Oh man. That sucks." Max frowned, dropped down to a crouch. Tried to get her arms around the rottie. "Poor pups."

"Yeah. Still a shady dude with a petty, semi-criminal enterprise, but…looking at history, social, he seemed like an okay person. No violence or abuse, nothing too bad. Even treated his junkyard noisemakers like family. Did business with the wrong peeps is all."

 _I'm sure we're both thinking it._ Max stood, leaned against a bumper. "If we weren't ditching this timeline, I'd make a side-trip. For the sake of these two, if nothing else."

"Yeah. Be good to follow another perp backward from that dude, too."

"Alright, Chloe - let me take a shot at diagramming then. For fun?"

"M'kay."

"We'll start with Juliet. Somebody wanted her kidnapped or dead, but…in a public way, while using our logo. That all sounds like 'two birds with one stone' thinking to me. Shutting Juliet up, so what, so she couldn't publicly object to the content of the opening articles, maybe? But in such a way that the blame for her abduction or murder or whatever they had planned fell on us. We'd appear to have a simple motive. Mobile videos of the abduction get posted, private army in action, logo, there we are, lookin' all guilty, adds fuel to the fire, confirming the worst suspicions about us, cementing our threat profile, blah blah? Close?"

Chloe nodded. "Make a private dick out of you yet. Dudes I've been able to follow from the first group; ones they left behind, plus the fingerprints and blood-work here, all dead men. KIAs overseas, that sort of shit. Obvious profile points back to our little-b bad-guy pals. You're only through half the picture so far though."

"The interlopers. Outerlopers? _Inner-outerlopers?_ "

"I followed their trail of video artifacts til the edits cleared. Got a direct eyeball on 'em. They all went straight for hospitals with their wounded." Chloe pointed back toward the entrance, started back through the maze.

Max followed, their escorts taking formation. "That's different behavior than the first guys. They seemed content to leave their teammates dead on the ground."

"It tracks. Worked back. Turns out, the ones who ran up on the first dudes, they're all licensed private security. Mainly ex-military, some off-duty cops, but working for a big security firm here in New York. They're legit, or at least out in the open."

Max stepped over a pothole. "Begs the follow-up. Who hired them? And why?"

Chloe smiled, tapped her temple. "Grape mimes. Cracked the security company's servers. No surprise, they were hired to protect Juliet. Only, last Friday - before the first Journal stories even posted. Decent retainer, deal done over email, with funds wired from a well-constructed shell - like, one with years of bookwork, tax records, website. That was Brooklyn. Was supposed to be their office, but…obviously, snarfy relay racks, and no one's been in or out in pretty much ever. The source account was fed by inbound micro-transactions from random credit cards over the last few years, so there's no obvious trail leading away from there. Ghosty."

Max slowed. "Okay, so someone hires guardian angels for Juliet in advance, for the same morning the stories hit, and that same morning, a hit squad shows up for her. Given the circumstances, that implies some level of prior knowledge, either through hacked internal stuff at the Journal, loose lips somewhere in bad-guy land, or through our variety of timey-wimey stuffs."

Chloe nodded. "Yep. And don't forget burner-hander-offer-dude. Hired on one of those small-task websites. Rando, but clean. And after, when these two highly trained forces crash into each other, it's loud, but it's also over in seconds. Original dudes disperse, and we're on to new peeps, showing up in different locations along her path. Whoever sent her that phone had eyes on her. Stepped in remotely and guided Juliet to safety, while erasing any evidence of the encounter, but leaving us these breadcrumbs so we'd understand what was going on. You know. Probably." Chloe pulled Max ahead.

They were back to the courtyard.

Max stopped.

Pups circled.

"So the bad-guy plan goes sidewise with the 'lopers, and they pull back on the false-flag signals, which is how the van ended up here, all squarshed and such?"

Chloe nodded. "Right. Cause, they realize if the footage gets out, there's an insta-manhunt for Juliet, and with our logo on the perp-van, we inevitably take a direct interest and jump in for real to do our thing. So that busts their evil plan with the prospect of a head-to-head with us, which doesn't work for them, not over something that's probably just a small piece. Instead, they ditch the van - or vans, I guess. Different places. Take out the people working, kill those trails. Keep the whole thing quiet, so they don't raise our attention or give away their next thing?"

 _The erasing thing made sense for both sides for different reasons though._ "Chlo, with the last, are we sure the erasure stuff isn't just them covering tracks? Are we reading too much into the whole artifact trail thing?"

"I'd have to articulate in English exactly how difficult it would be for someone who isn't like me to do what was done. I mean, hackers with nation-state sponsored tools and big compute resources…maybe? Anything's possible. Could be other factions of bad-guys with different opinions about all of this - I mean, it's a whole new can of worms if we start thinking about open divisions showing up in their ranks. But maybe that's inevitable given our recent exchange of offers and ultimatums. And if that's the way it breaks - could still be that they made assumptions and someone on their team wanted us to see, or…I don't know. Yeah, I have to admit to the possibility that I'm reading into the patterns and timing, given that thought. I can't tell you exactly why I believe that's not the case though. Fuzzy instincts. I could still be wrong."

"Okay, Chlo. So is it you? Is it us? Or some rogue element of them who's either had a change of heart or difference of opinion? Or, as Jeremy is so fond of asking, are we looking at a wildcard? And what's the deal with the racks and trunk taps and stuff?"

"I don't know, Max. I know the answers matter in this timeline, but I don't have them all yet. I mean, if nothing else, least we confirmed that some flavor of them is involved in this campaign against us, and it isn't just a media flare-up. That seems like the main thing you were after and…it's all kinda moot anyway with the impending undo button, yeah?"

"Yeah. Guess you're right. Speaking of. I think I've got enough to call it. Do you have a cube on you?"

"Why? You're rubber-banding for a note-reset, not a rewind?"

"Yeah. I know. But something you said earlier kinda gave me an idea. I just wanna try something. Might not work."

"Uh? Oh. I think I know what part you mean…interesting. Yeah. I mean, holy shit, d _ude._ _That's freakin' obvious."_

"You think it'll work then?"

"I don't see why not. Only applies in these very narrow circumstances, but I feel kinda stupid for not seeing it sooner, honestly. Guess I have been preoccupied lately. Damn. It's almost like they combined a nudge with 'here - you guys figure it out,' all in one move." Chloe pulled a glowing cube from her jacket pocket, pinched between two fingers. Held it.

Max held out her hand, palm up. "Right? Like maybe they're giving us benefit of the doubt?"

"Yeah, yeah. I see what you did there. You'll have to be super-super-extra careful though - doubles the risk. I mean, when, do you think?"

"More when _and where_. No added risk. Let's say Margaretville is maybe a little more safely isolated than I may have previously let on?"

"Okay. Yeah, I had a suspicion after the whole 'it's complicated' thing that first day, back at S-6. Figured you'd get around to sharing, or not. That's a good option. Although that confirmation repeats a whole list of questions about FutureUs we never answered post-Lombard - especially about the limits of your mobility. Maybe you're right. With your whole thing about them. They may be a lot simpler than I'm twisting them up to be." Once finished, Chloe dropped the cube in Max's hand. "There are some pretty freaky-ass implications though…"

Max held her breath. "Yeah. Occurred to me too. If it works, we'll continue this conversation after the jump." Max crouched to give the doggies hugs goodbye. Looked back over her shoulder at Chloe. "Oh, and I just remembered - what was the deal with Juliet's other texts? We ever figure those out?"

Chloe leaned against the crusher, arms and ankles crossed. "Nope. I think if we were gonna keep this branch alive, we'd prolly wanna try to wrangle this Alex chick next, see what's what? But…no need now."

"Okay. Moot."

"Moot."

"Mooooooot."

"Mmmoooooot."

Dogs barked.

"Weirdo. Love you to pieces, Chlo." Max rose up.

"You too. Here's hoping this ends it, and in another minute, we'll be laughing about the bullet we just dodged. Preferably over more food? Somewhere warmer?"

"That's the plan. Now gimmie kiss."

Chloe leaned in. Max kissed her, dogs barking in the background.

"See you in a few, love."

Chloe nodded, bit her lower lip. "We'll see." Kept her eyes closed.

* * *

 **Max** left her. The grey sky, the biting cold, gone. She folded backward and outward to their private sleeping quarters. A quiet, out-of-the-way hemisphere inside their Luna fort. Insulated from all futures by a hundred-and-eighty-million solar orbits.

She set Chloe's cube on the side-table. _Only way to know._

 _Should I say hi to Margaret? No, I'll only be a sec. Catch her on the return trip._

She returned to the Terrarium, an instant after leaving Chloe behind in the Bronx.

The interview seemed like forever ago. She thought back, looking for a good, clean entry point.

 _Could go all the way back to the first time Jillian mentioned it. After New Year's? Nah. Keep the ripples close as possible, and as small as you can._

 _I'm not sure there's a good time. Not in the weeks leading up, for sure. We were all kinds of fucked up about the Gaiacidal implications out of S-6. Tail end is prolly the least bad; don't want to pile on our worries with new questions about a sudden, unrelated reboot._

Jumping into a period of sleep was less complicated all around. Minimized chances of running into other people, or creating unintended spoilers or changes. Reduced the inconvenience of interrupting herself and whatever else she might have been doing at the time, were she awake.

But even in the days before the interview, she wasn't sleeping. Always had trouble when Chloe wasn't there. And with her down in her lab, overwhelmed, wrapping her mind around The Device and the complicated mechanics of building the machine designed to fix it, she wasn't home with Max all that much.

Always exceptions to the sleep-jump-guideline and this jump probably qualified. _Not much choice._

She checked her phone's calendar, an informal back-look at events.

 _Shit. Interview day's all Calendar Tetris too._

 _Might be a window between the time I got back from Jeremy's Roscosmos job and checking the morning emails - and oh, right, running into that Gabriel dude with Emo in the living room – same day. Aaand the quick trip back to Margaret from there, before...maybe after all that is better? Still pretty compressed. Showers, seeing to the place settings and prep, and then they were there. Damn. That's too late. They'd be on the way._

 _Maybe while I was checking messages? Before Gabriel? It was only a few minutes. I was at the holo, practically nodding off anyway. Jump in quick, leave a post-it right on the desk? Or…my forehead. Whatevs. Then back?_

She knew her handwriting. Safest bet. She didn't recall looking in their analog message box that morning.

 _Okay then._

She sat at the edge of the koi pool. Orange ripples, fishtails. Closed her eyes. Pictured the scene, the morning. Herself at the terminal. _Maybe just before I opened the app?_

She centered. Jumped back.

She was back at her desk, exhausted. Sleep deprived. Holo was on. _Be quick._ She checked the drawer, but there we no post-its. She ran out to their bedroom, pulled a notepad and pen from the stack next to the note-box. Scratched out a quick 'don't do the interview' message, added her origin date in the corner, _Feb 18th, 2016_. No other forward-looking detail. _I was on the fence about retro-canceling, even during the interview. Small push will be good enough._

She ran back to her office. Taped the note over the haptic emitter at the top left corner of her desk. _Can't miss that. Won't work 'til I move it. Later PastMax. Hope you take a longer nap in the sun today._

Satisfied, she jumped back to her body in a slightly altered future. Just like she had a thousand times before.


	19. Ctrl Alt Del

**Max** entered her place in the new timeline.

Found herself in a squishier office chair than she left, leaning precariously to one side. Apparently pawing through the contents of a bottom side-drawer.

 _Snooping? Okay, to be fair, that doesn't_ _ **not**_ _seem like something I'd do._

Papers. Pen box. Stick of gum. Carved crystal of old Scotch, nearly empty. An exquisitely engraved silver handgun.

Wasn't her desk.

She pushed away.

 _Okay, but where am I?_

Nowhere familiar. The office was tiny but felt grossly expensive. Walls of exotic, patterned wood veneers, glowing and reflecting through thick layers of clear honey lacquer. Dozens of inset lamps illuminated built-in shelves filled with books, artifacts, improbable statuary. Overhead, a gold-leaf tray ceiling with recessed lighting cast warm diffusion. Not so much as a fingerprint or speck of dust anywhere.

An embroidered Roman shade covered what she assumed to be a picture window to her right.

 _I need to get my bearings here._

She tried to pull the shade aside, but it resisted. Set in tracks. Once she located the switch, it retreated noiselessly toward the ceiling. As it ascended, it revealed more of the world beyond the window, starting with a sliver of deep-blue glass. Then a wide inlaid-teak walkway just outside, harshly lit, optically distorted. The teak transitioned seamlessly into a polished white side-wall topped by a floating chrome-tube railing. She released the switch. Beyond the railing, only her reflection in the window superimposed over dark, calm waters.

 _I'm…on a boat._

Clouds beyond the distant horizon picked up the amber light of some city or another.

She turned, opened the door opposite the window. Exited to an expansive circular bedroom - must have been twenty-five feet across. It carried some of the same design themes as the office while layering details Max recognized as super-high-end, but which always struck her as tacky.

She sauntered though the room.

A bright barrel-chandelier, centered over the bed, scattered light through countless thousands of crystal elements. Beneath her feet, short, dense carpeting in cream, with spiraling gold stems and flowers. On each side of the bed, lacquered walnut dressers with veined marble tops and exquisitely detailed gold inlays, mirroring the carpet's patterns. And a comically ginormous stained-glass peacock stood guard over it all, perched above the pinned fabric of the headboard.

She stifled a laugh. _Excess much?_

 _This doesn't feel like somewhere we'd hang on purpose._

 _I mean, maybe Chloe brought us here ironically?_

 _But that gun doesn't belong to her. Unless it's new? Hmmm._

Drawn shade-panels ringed the bedroom.

No apparent exits or views outside.

 _Hang on…those drapes over there are different._

She crossed the room, pushed them aside. More of the blue-tinted ballistic glass - a hidden slider. It was heavy, but opened easily, letting in a blast of fresh salt air. Outside, a lit balcony jutted from another walkway. Its sidewall dropped to glass, providing an ocean view to anyone lounging in the low deck-mounted sofa ahead.

She exited, went to the railing. Leaned out. The metal was cold under her forearms. She counted four levels down to the water, glowing aqua from underwater accent lights. Small pointy fish darted below the surface.

 _Okay. A big, big boat._

She scanned up, fore and aft. The aggressive lines of the dark blue hull contrasted with the softly lit organic white curves above the main deck. At least two or three more levels towered overhead. And something bright, hidden from view. Stars twinkled through high clouds.

 _Six or seven stories tall? Okay, Max, what are we doing on a private super-yacht? Whose is it?_

The evening was quiet.

She headed aft. Maybe she'd find Chloe or…their hosts or…anyone? Least a better view?

Fleeting thoughts of an alternate vacation ended once she hit the hot-tub deck, behind the master suite. Saw the raw chaos of the open sky.

 _Well then._

 _Somebody's been busy._

She lifted herself off the deck for a better look.

Drifted up and back, slowly, like a kite, until the vessel was a thin aqua outline little bigger than her shoe. Spotlights reached up to untold thousands of tiny frozen bubbles. The arrangement spiraled skyward from a recessed Vulcan cannon on the roof. Its roar long over, not even smoke lingered.

An ascending series of larger bubbles trapped angry flowers of red fire, dark smoke and the beginnings of sharp, deadly shrapnel. Exploding smart-rounds fired from hidden tubes, captured mid-burst, looking for all the world like rotten hell-balloons.

Max dropped closer to the sea, took a lap.

Across the water, up front, two speedboats. Bubbled while racing back toward the yacht. Armed crews of three men were frozen in each, drifting harmlessly above the wavelets.

She completed her circle. Toward the rear of the yacht, at the waterline, an open wet-garage with water-toys. Empty parking spaces for the speedboats she saw earlier, as well as an extended crane, empty, and big spot for some other vehicle, missing.

 _Prolly a mini-sub?_

 _That would suggest that someone bolted._

She bubbled herself, dipped below the surface, but visibility dropped to zero in the darkening blue. If there were an escaping sub, she wouldn't find it like this. Not without more effort. If it was important, she'd come back.

She broke the surface, dropping the bubble. A residual film of water collapsed, sprinkling droplets.

Back on the yacht, unconscious men lay strewn across decks and levels, their weapons in varied states of powdered decay or mechanical disassembly.

 _Okay. Picture time. I must have dropped from above, triggered some defensive system. Armed dudes reacted. Someone bailed below the surface. No signs of other crew. If they're still on board, they'll be huddled up in the citadel._

She and Chloe flirted with the idea of floating offices. Large yachts like this one had armored panic rooms with redundant communications and engine controls. The crew and guests would have been drilled to head there at the first sign of piracy or other troubles.

 _Okay, if that's the 'what' -_ _ **why**_ _am I here?_

She dropped to the deck.

Felt her ear.

 _Oh. Course I'm wearing an earpiece._

 _Ask someone, dummy._

She tapped it. "Hey, uh, guys? Anyone there?"

Chloe answered at once, voice stressed. "Find anything? Clock's ticking, dude. Like, literally."

Max sat on the back of a low sofa. "Chloe! Hey! Um…I'm just curious why I'm on a boat, exactly?"

Silence.

"Shit." All energy drained from Chloe's voice. "…jump."

"…yeah."

"Okay, Max…well, hi there, I guess? If you were coming backward, you'd know where you are, which means you must have come in sideways. Damn. Rubber-band. Okay. Do this - mark the moment and check your phone? I'm sending you a map. Why don't you come to us? We can compare realities. Then reset, keep going or…whatever. Doesn't super-matter - I mean, shit…just another reverse-engineering loop."

Max took out her phone. "That doesn't sound cheerful?"

After a brief delay, a message appeared, linking to a pin on a map.

"What are you doing _there?_ Never-mind. On my way."

* * *

 **Emily** was trapped. Trembling, hunched in the muddy drain-pipe that ran beneath a lonely dirt logging road.

None of them wanted to go back.

 _Fuck!_

They captured Jason first. Tased him from a drone, where the edge of the forest crept into the last small town. Another twenty feet and he would have made it to the trees. Had a chance.

Not that they had a chance.

Emily jerked.

Mira's wounded screams cut through the forest again.

That was worse. Her pursuers were _making_ Mira yell. Instead of helping her.

Trying to draw Em out.

Half-hour before, half a mile into the forest, Mira took a wrong step. She was leading Emily through the undergrowth, slipped down a short embankment into some rocks. Something crunched wrong.

They tried to stay together as long as they could. Hobbled as one, every step torture over the uneven ground. But the men with the dogs came right for them; excited barks brought closer by Mira's pain. She finally gave up. Sat on a log, leg bloody. Pushed Emily away, told her to go on. At least one of them might get to freedom.

It tore at Emily.

She didn't want to go back.

But she didn't want to be separated either.

There wasn't any help to get out here.

So this was it.

She was it.

Stay or go?

She tried both at once. Not too far.

Found a place to hide.

Every rustle echoed inside her pipe.

Daylight blazed from each end as opposing circles, crushing the darkness.

There she was, caught in the middle. Dirty.

She repositioned to let blood back into her sleeping foot. Pins and needles flooded. When she twisted her body, her hand found a twig in the mud. Pencil-sized. Something familiar to hold. She tried to close her ears to Mira's distant cries. But she couldn't close her heart.

Every instinct pushed her out the exit, back to Mira.

She was on the edge of giving in.

But instead, she stayed. Prayed to whoever was listening for someone, anyone, to help them.

 _It's not fair! We were so close!_

She stabbed at the mud with the twig.

Nervous autopilot.

Rough sketch.

The roughest.

She couldn't make it out until she finished. Not that she knew what it meant. Her drawings were only ever meaningful to those people back there. The ones who imprisoned and shared her.

It was the same for Jason. Mira was different. She saw hers as she went.

Emily squinted at the faint lines in the mud. Sorta looked like a building. From above? Not like any she'd seen. Three buildings sticking out of a circle, maybe?

She didn't hear the dogs until it was too late. Her eyes shot up when they blocked the light.

Left side first, then right.

 _NO!_

Trapped.

Once they saw her, they barked like it was the only sound in the universe.

She put her hands over her ears.

Always caught in the middle.

The one on the left charged, splashing in toward her.

Big German shepherd, from the grounds.

She put her arm up to protect herself, fell back into the mud.

It hesitated, barked once, took another step. Stopped.

Pulled back, as if given some silent signal.

Both dogs backed out of the pipe, away from view.

Her heart sank again as the drone dropped down. Men's voices drew closer.

 _Caught._

At least Mira's screams had finally stopped.

* * *

 **Max** snapped her fingers mid-fold.

She wasn't sure why.

 _Random._

The dark sea around her displaced to an aerial view of the western Ukrainian city of Lviv.

Half the sprawl below was jeweled in the nighttime romance of faded yellow street-lamps, while the remainder suffered under the clinical blue-white glare of newer LED fixtures. Old streetcars ran cobblestone roads through charming old-world buildings. Contrasting modern construction, commercial and industrial, radiated out to suburbs, intermingled with low billboards and hilly forests of untamed growth.

 _Half everything._

Max descended to the spot Chloe marked, east of the city center.

Tapped her ear. "Alright, Chlo, I'm here. I'm in a parking lot between buildings, off the main street. Where to next?"

Chloe came on, her voice more relaxed, "Hang on, coming to you. What lot are you in? Hardware store or the bike shop?"

A lazy beetle buzzed Max's face, hovered, bumbled off. She waved it away, glanced around. "Both? I'm between 'em, I guess? Under a light."

"Okay…hey. I see you. Turn left…no, _your_ left. Other…left." Max spun the right way, caught a flash of Chloe over a hedge. Waved. They met in the middle, greeted with a quick hug and kiss.

Chloe spoke first. "Welcome back, or…ya know, here, I guess?"

"Thanks? I hope?"

Chloe guided her to the far edge of the lot, where the faded blacktop eroded to weedy grit, dark trees. "Don't hold onto that too tight - whatever you did to try and head off this shit show, it didn't change things enough."

"Uh. Okay? What's the dramarama 'round here?" Max followed Chloe down a pebbly dirt path, around the dark corner of a metal-clad building.

Ty waited for them beside the door, wearing some new flavor of full-body tech-armor. The shadows of gently blowing leaves rolled off his shoulder, but his gear didn't reflect much of the lamp-light that made them. His eyes were dead-tired.

"Hey, Ty."

He nodded. "Max." Pulled aside the metal barn door as they neared, flooding them with harsh light. He followed them in. A team decked in similar gear maintained relaxed, outward-facing defensive positions near doors and windows. One secured the entry behind them.

"What was the alteration date?" Chloe led them across the otherwise-empty warehouse. The space was echoey; their steps skiffed through the thick layer of dust and small grains.

"It was about a month back. Morning of January 20th." They passed under a couple of drone body-forms Max didn't recognize. Hanging in mid-air among the rafters. Their skins were semi-translucent, gloss-white. Shaped like upside-down raindrops. Shifting geometric lines in orange and blue glowed beneath their milky surfaces. No visible means of propulsion. Or purpose.

On the far side of the room, two men and a woman lay prone, zip-tied.

Before Max could inquire, Chloe kicked open a section of floor with a loud bang. A steel plate on recessed tracks bounced once, slid away, revealing concrete steps to a basement level.

Chloe descended first. "20th? Not far, then…right before. Okay. Once we're in, I'll throw you a timeline, some highlights, and you can let us know what you changed, maybe where events are different for you?"

"Okay." Max followed her down.

"Once we understand what your plan was, we'll do our best to help figure out what you can do to push the timeline farther, yeah?"

"Sure?"

Chloe, over her shoulder, "Walking our event-check forward from the beginning, our first wave should be identical. The party hit on New Year's, right? Assholes, traps and toys?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Okay, then between, you rescued Emo, put up Skywatch…I pwned Area51, we rolled across a future-past project at S-6, and then the big scary alien whatever was whatevered?"

Max ducked her head to avoid a twisted fluorescent bulb. "That sounds right."

"Okay, cool. The second wave began a few days after your tweak-date, so I'm guessing—"

"I think I need to better understand what you mean by 'wave'?" Max trailed Chloe into the plain cinder-block basement.

It was longer than it was across, with tall racks of wires and electronics lining one wall and workbenches at the other. Bare bulbs, wire runs, and venting ran along the ceiling. Concrete support columns for the floor above broke up the space. Raw. Unfinished. Smelled like mold, fresh plastic, and electricity. The entire aesthetic was like the polar opposite of Max's first few moments in this new timeline.

A couple of op techs fiddled with equipment across the span, while another catalogued the contents of benches with the help of a small, scanning holo-drone.

 _Too many questions._

 _Just…wait. Absorb._

* * *

 **Juliet** laughed along. They were both idiots, but they could be funny sometimes. The self-designated clowns of her new study group. Bro-ish, for sure. But that wasn't all they were. Wasn't ever _all_ they were.

Juliet was on the floor, chair at her back.

They took over a common-area lounge for this session.

Sierra rolled her eyes. "Guys. Come on. Focus this time? Please? Test is in two days."

"Fine. Be lame."

"Laaaaaaame, bruh." The first guy threw popcorn at Sierra, who blocked. She hit him back with a stern glare. Dodged another fluff without rolling out of her striped bean-bag lounger.

Juliet tried. Why couldn't she hold on to his name? _Grant…or…Baxter or…_ some stereotypical East-Coast-ivy-money-sounding… Only her second session, but she always remembered people's names. _No excuses._

She found them on the cork board in the hall. This group was for calc. She was okay but could use the boost. She found another group for Wednesdays, for her class on computer-assisted data-reporting. Good time to retrench, shore up some of her weaker grades.

It was better this way. Her almost daily commute downtown ate too much of her life. And if her morning in Vegas with that sexist asshole was any indication of what her future co-workers would be like at the stuffy old Journal, Max did her a favor.

 _Should reach out again._

 _Say something._

Journal didn't matter. She'd already lined up a new internship with a broadcast news network, starting in a month. Mid-town. Better schedule. Better balance. Still journalism, still writing. Just a different medium and angle. Would be good experience. She'd do another traditional newspaper internship next year to round her resume. Add more contacts to her personal network.

The bros were still goofing on each other.

She saw movement from the corner of her eye. Easily caught the thrown popcorn in her mouth, eyes back to her notebook without acknowledging it.

Sierra and the others burst into surprised cheers for Juliet, derision for her would-be popcorn-sneak-attacker.

She smiled to herself.

Maybe she didn't have to try to adult so hard.

It'd all work out.

She was only beginning.

* * *

 **Max** took a stool. Waited for them to share. Often learned more by listening first.

Ty leaned against a nearby support pillar, serious, looming. There was something else in his posture. Almost a hint of sadness?

Chloe slid the wrong way onto a high-backed metal bench stool, leaned her arms on the backrest. She fidget-swiveled side-to-side with a squeak. "Okay, lemmie bring you current. Not much happened on the 20th. You were zonked from Jeremy's overnight satellite rescue gig the night before. Cash is good, right? Only distraction was that Gabriel dude I let break in. Everything else, pretty much business as usual…or…whatever passes for us.

"Next couple days, we stumbled into action on that whole human-trafficking horribleness…well, you did. Moonlighting gig; trigger was a drone slip that freaked a ship full of twitchy slaver assholes. They dumped containers of live people in the ocean. Bad form. You jumped backward, rescued the peeps, kicked their goddamn asses like a fuckin' boss. Still…same?"

Max poked at the strange dusty objects on the bench. Looked up at Chloe's last. "Wait, go back. Me? _I_ went back to the ship after bringing people to HQ?"

Chloe nodded, pulled up a holo. "Yeah. Epic. You were super fuckin' pissed, too."

Ty nearly smiled. "Thing of beauty. Caught the video later."

Max shrugged at Chloe. "Interesting. That's different. My last timeline, I moved everyone to LV, but _you_ were the one who went over solo and secured the ship after. And Ty, you even won a bet with Hector about her final speed-run time."

"I'm not surprised. Beyond his five seconds, he underestimates people. Win anything good?"

"Heh. Hector had to sing about ponies at a giant karaoke show in Japan. Last Sunday. Valentine's…did we not—"

Chloe brought it back. "Okay, guys - that's still only one minor change. Could be random, from the timing offset. I thought about it - going, you know? But you were on a holy-mission. Headed back to fuck with 'em before I could even think to get dressed. We were all angry, for obvious reasons."

"Like, how angry though? Bad-angry?" asked Max.

Chloe shook her head. "Nothing killy or anything, but you fully represented our collective aggro with the whole 'wrathful god-mode' routine." She ended with a smile.

The holo record between them cleared, then showed the container ship, suspended half a mile above the water, broken in two, tilted at off-angles. Storm raging around it. Lightning. Bubbled shipping containers orbited like it was an old-school model of an atom. All the while, a bright blue dot created mayhem inside the wireframe of the castle structure.

Ty added, "Departments are still trading the clips around. Callin' it 'training.'"

 _That's…but okay…_ "Keep going. Interesting change. Be honest, I thought about it." Max shrugged.

Chloe put up project data, images, network diagrams, interdiction efforts. "Okay, after you handed 'em their asses, we fast-tracked an insider deal with a UN sub-committee and the Interpol network, going after the trafficking network, leaving them as the front-end —"

"Okay, that part sounds right." Max shuffled.

Chloe fast-forwarded through maps, news coverage, photos of dudes bundled into police vans. "And we're walking… Moving on, day later I worked from Groom. You slept in. Left yourself a note about a train bombing in Madrid. Ty?"

"Yeah. Nice day in Spain. Easy save." He slow-winked at Max. "We were gearing for weekly drills when you caught up to us, all bed-head with your little pink post-it. You and me each took a team, wormed over and slapped down a split-cell of ungrateful terrorist types. Saved a whole lotta civilians from expiring during their commutes home. And politely asked the bad guys a few questions that helped us track down the dudes supplying their tech and explosives. Forensics took the ball, HQ followed up on finance. We delivered everybody to the cops in Madrid, with a nice package of evidence and supporting intel."

Chloe jumped back in with a sleepy stretch and a yawn. "…and thennnn…you made it home in time to join _meee_ halfway through a surprise inbound call from the sales-schmo for the Evil Empire."

Max paged through frames from Chloe's holo with a wave. "In this timeline, _we_ handled Madrid _ourselves_ instead of calling it in. Huh. So…that means I was in the field all day…no solo world tour, no photo safari. Sadface. Those were sweet shots. Okay - I think I was _way_ more hands-on this branch. It's interesting. That call, was it still Wallace?"

"Yep. Minion of lameness reached out, basically said they'd give us the country to STFU and go away," Chloe chuckled. "Paraphrasing Mr. Shirt. After dumping his people somewhere super cold, you laughed in his face and threw the whole human slave-trade thing back on him, along with a few other forward-looking examples of why their kind of world wasn't gonna work for us. Closed with the whole 'no - you shut the fuck up and go away, cause you're all evil dicks and you're not the boss of me' speech." Chloe reflected, looked at Ty, "I had tingles."

"Okay…that's…way different. The tone of it too." Max picked up a keypad, wires hanging loose. Turned it over.

 _What was I thinking over here? How did it go like that?_

 _All I changed was the interview, right?_

"Mean assholes, global destruction, not a social call." Chloe rolled her eyes. "We relocated The Wallace to join his cronies on the moon. Recalled Soph from her vacation, sent her along to help peel their brains—"

Ty interrupted, "She delivered us more heavies the next day, by the by…"

Max dropped the keypad. "Ripples getting bigger. This went different." Wiped her hands on her jeans.

"Really?" Chloe swung her legs.

"Yeah, this path was…a lot more aggressive. On our part. Mine, I guess."

Chloe shrugged. "Pretty fuckin' measured from my point of view. I mean, you know, _they_ didn't take it very well."

Ty, grim, crossed his arms. "Here we go…"

Chloe nodded solemnly. In a quiet voice, "Sophie…she's one of…the recent casualties in our current little side-branch—"

"Wait - _why?"_ Max dropped onto a stool. " _Soph's dead here!?_ There's no fucking way that's canon."

Ty shifted, uncomfortable.

Chloe slumped, held up her hands. "Temporary trade-offs. She insisted we save the others this pass. You'll understand."

"Let's skip to _that_ part."

"Yeah. K. Sorry. It was two days. After we absconded with Wall-ass. They hit back with the start of wave two. And we've all been in a rolling triage since. Ten steps forward, eleven steps back to gain two steps forward. Rinse. Repeat."

 _Shit…but Soph…_ "I'm sorry, Ty. I know from my last timeline." Max turned back, continued, "Okay, but, no, Chlo - I'm lost. Explain for real - what do you mean by they _hit back_? And how the fuck is Soph staying dead an acceptable _anything to any of us?"_

Ty glanced from Max to Chloe and back, puzzled.

Chloe had that faraway look, like she was processing.

Max, under her breath, "Okay, this branch took a turn." She picked up a heavy ball-bearing, cold. Rolled it in her hand. Set it down with a hard metallic thump.

A couple of techs and an operator stopped at the sound. Listened in.

"Here." Chloe cleared, threw new diagrams, images into the air around them. Of strewn bodies. Burnt homes. News articles. Maps. "Alright. We're obviously not on the same page. Day one, two days after that meeting with Wallace, a…retaliation effort of sorts kicked off. They straight-up executed two-hundred of our people in coordinated attacks around the world."

Max froze. _"Holy shit. Seriously? Why? What's the point? I mean…how do they think this is gonna end?"_

"This _is_ new to you then? That's…funny isn't exactly the right word, but…everything we know, from the other loops, you hand-carried to us on cubes through rewinds. You were the only one of us who was there, and now, even you don't remember…sorry. These pics, reports from that day, they're all from that very first timeline. No rhyme or reason to the targeting, other than people being out on their own. Some on the way to work, others at home, out, or sleeping. Just…bang. Collateral damage too."

"This is all wrong." Max picked up a lump of clay, squeezed hard. "Did we save—"

Chloe held up her hand. "Of course. Oh my god, _of course._ Final pass at day one was shiny, dude. They fucked shit up, but we're us, so with some badass collective effort, we unfucked it just as hard." Chloe got up, paced.

The air around them swirled with local news reports from an undone version of this alternate branch. Chloe continued. "The hits were a mixed bag. Some by low-level family-style operators, others made to look like random street violence. Others, 'accidents' or staged like arson or terrorism - even bystanders to random gang hits. All over the map. That hasn't changed. It was the tight timing and the collection of them that first stood out. Common thread of us, obvs."

Ty was troubled. "…I'm sorry to interrupt you, Chloe - Max - just real quick, I gotta ask - if all this is _new_ to you, how _bad_ was it where you came from?"

Chloe squinted, added, "And what, exactly, did you change on the 20th to get us here?"

Max squished the ball of clay in her hand. Deflated. "I just dropped back and left myself a note - to cancel a meeting with Juliet. That was the only change I made. In-n-out like a trout. No interactions. Kept it under two minutes? Following through with that interview - it went bad. Gave them an opening to attack us in the press, which led to spiraling waves of negative coverage and—"

Ty and Chloe exchanged quick looks, as did others in the room.

Chloe knitted her brows. "Bad press. Seriously? Was that the _worst_ of it?"

Max shrugged. "So far. -Ish. I mean, it was a coordinated bad-guy push, pretty widespread, growing a life all its own. Jillian seemed more worried than usual. Plus, Juliet was missing, a few folks in New York got killed. All this went down while you and I were on Steve for our mini-break. We only came back last night, caught up to all the craziness this morning. After untangling things, we made the call, I made a quick change, and now, here I am…or…we are."

Chloe shook her head. "Damn, dude. History turns on the weirdest shit sometimes. Okay, we can agree this isn't an improvement over here? Right?"

"Understatement," muttered one of the techs.

"No," said Ty. "But this…right here…this is _good_ news, friends." He put his hands where his pockets would be on civilian clothes. Caught himself. Crossed his arms instead.

Chloe nodded, slouched into her seat. Ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it back. "No shit. It's finally over. It's _all_ over now. We know _exactly_ what to change to make it stop for good. That's…such a huge fucking relief after the fight we've had, Max. Keepin' a brave face, but we're not quite treading water here, you know?"

A couple of nods from others in the room.

 _Damn. Okay. Wrong turn._

 _And maybe a warning?_

"Chlo - they planned the New Year's thing for more than a year. Something like what you're talking about, coordinated hits, people, places; that's not easy to pull off either. Means it's something else they have planned. Maybe it was a backup to what we were going through in the last branch, but this will be in their back pocket when I revert things."

"Yeah. True. But…we might be able to help you there." Chloe smiled, rapid-fire holos flashed names, faces, metadata, rotated, interconnected with pyramidal hierarchies below them. A senator's husband. Two competing crime syndicate bosses. A board member of a major telecom company. Owner of an alt-media network. "The Wallace guy knew the plan in general but didn't have names of the leads or any of the real execution details that would help us here. We've taken down a handful of folks he did know, across reboots - worked their networks, standard 'flip our way up the chain' stuff. That and your rewind-cubes from our future selves are how we've gotten this far, but it's like everything is so fucking compartmented with these people. No idea how they get anything done, honestly…Sophie was workin' her brain to the pan before…well…you know…but she couldn't pull what wasn't in their heads. Fortunately, that's not all we have."

Max looked from face to face. "Okay guys - this branch - please, I need you to help me understand it. In case we see it again - that first hit was nearly a _month_ ago in this timeline - what's happened since?"

"Motherfuckers took the gloves off." Ty dropped his arms, fists clenched.

* * *

 **Kate** signed the last of the checks. Left them in the 'out' tray at the edge of the desk.

There was something old-fashioned about the feel of real paper in her hands. Permanently committing the practiced flow of a careful signature.

In the beginning, it made everything a touch more formal. Which made things feel more official. Real.

They'd done some good since then, even as everything else seemed to get crazier. Especially over the last month. But in spite of the world outside her bubble and all that remained undone, she clung tightly to the starfish principal.

 _It mattered to the ones they could help._

She smiled, flashing back to the early days. All apprehension melted away once the first groups of therapy animals arrived. The goats and sheep and cows and buns and other farm critters were so excited when they were released. When they knew they were home. Cows kicking their hind legs mid-run, so happy to have space. Open green fields, heated barns, forests. Clear skies. A few small streams that fed a handful of ponds on nearly three-hundred acres of protected land.

The animals seemed happy to have each other, too. The alpacas watched over the sheep. The sheep kept the baby goats from terrorizing the chickens. For too long, anyway. There were taller things for them to stand on. Like the lambs.

 _Speaking of_ …she checked her watch.

Mind back on her day. There was time for a quick walk-through before the next group of at-risk kids hit the front gate. Check in on folks, and make sure everyone with a tail was happy and healthy.

Whenever it synced with her class schedule, she tried to be here for orientation days and graduations especially. The before and after, in a way. In time, she'd have her own graduate degree in counseling. Until then, real counselors did the most delicate work, while The Amber Foundation provided silent funding. Which was, in turn, secretly funded by grants from Max's company. _Whole other story there._ But this was Kate's vision, this farm, this camp on the outskirts of Portland. One of many good works she'd been allowed to realize while developing her skills. With her dad's help and guidance.

 _We've all been so incredibly blessed._

She exited the shared office, a converted bedroom of the original Victorian farmhouse, headed for the screen door that led out back. Half-opened it with a creak.

A voice behind her. "Miss Marsh? Kate? I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in."

Kate stopped, turned. The office administrator, one of the permanent on-site staff. She smiled warmly, "Good morning, Anthony. How are you feeling today? How is your mother?" He was a gentle soul, the older brother of one of their earliest graduates.

"I'm doing very well, and she's improving, thank you. She asked after you. Here." He pulled a soft-padded envelope from a drawer, handed it to her. "I didn't want to forget again; a messenger dropped this off for you last week."

"Thank you." She accepted it, felt something small inside. Corners. When she opened it, an unmarked USB-drive slid into her hand. She re-examined the front and back of the package but found only her name.

"Did the messenger say who it was from?"

"I wasn't here when it was delivered. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. If it's been here a week, another hour won't hurt anything. I'll see what it is when I get back from my visit." She set the drive on the desk next to her notebook and bag.

"Would you like some company?"

Without pause, she nodded. "I'd like that. It's turning into a pretty day outside, don't you think?"

They headed outside to commandeer a golf-cart to the top of the hill.

She slowed to let a new family of ducks waddle across the path.

* * *

 **Max** searched their faces.

This timeline was a dead-end, so the eavesdroppers gave up any pretense at continuing their work, closed in. Took stools at the benches, leaned against pillars or racks. They all nodded at Ty's stark description.

 _Gloves off, huh?_

They looked beat up for sure.

"What are we doing…about the victims? From that first attack. You said reverse engineering loops? What's the real damage over here, Chlo?"

"It's gotten way bigger than it was, and it's mostly been on your shoulders. Nearly five months have passed for you, since that first day…"

"Wow. Shit."

"Surprise. Meanwhile, us dead-branchers - sorry, gallows humor - we've been working backward on intel, and the triage plans to hand off to PastUs. And once you rewind however far, our younger, fresher selves execute those final plans from our alt-future - to build each new permanent day. If it's a fail, we re-examine, adapt to changes, start over. If we pull it off, we start working on the next day."

"Trying." Ty shrugged.

Chloe paused. "Lemmie start over. Now that I know where you're coming from, I see the gaps."

"Please? Thanks?"

Chloe ran an impromptu motion-graphic outlining the events, complete with stick figures. "You couldn't fix everything; couldn't be everywhere at once. That first day in the old timeline, you took half a day, deconstructed everything with the teams. Rewound with a cube with a list of victim's names, all the data we'd put together, news, police reports, and moment-by-moment plans to fix things - a hopeful present from all of us in that first timeline stub. We just carried those plans out here in our branch once you got back."

"It worked?"

"Yeah," Chloe fidgeted. "We let everyone who was targeted know, had our people moved, sent our teams or local LE in to intercept street level guys before the hits started, you know. We only had a twelve-hour lead, but with hard intel - it's what we could do. Shit-ton of work, but it went okay and took us down to zero casualties, two wounded. Caught some smalltime bad guys. Progress."

"Go team us."

Ty spoke up. "Yeah, but…the next real day, they started over, same time, only it was three-hundred. Different people, different places. New day and a rehash of the same operational plan."

Chloe wove in additional images, hand-carried across rewinds from dead branches past. "More people targeted on day two meant it was more complicated to fix. Took us a few more successive days to work out the rescue logistics to send back for that wave, and guess it took us a few tries before we got it right here. Trial and error, with more loops to get everyone over the line at the end of that final second day."

Max leaned against the bench, eyes defocused through the holos to the far wall. "I think I see where this is going."

Chloe took her hand. "Babe, just so you understand how relieved we are that this has an easy-exit, like, we're not even near the bad parts yet."

Quiet nods.

One of the operators complained, "They'd begin again, each new day. While we're occupied with how to undo the day before, however long that takes, they'd keep going. Like they were on a schedule. Beatin' on us. Getting progressively worse as it went on."

Another added, "You ever see the old Galactica episode, early one, I think? Cylons chasing the fleet across jumps, catching up every half-hour? For weeks on end, just wearing everyone down, waiting for mistakes. Picking them off? It's felt like that here."

Chloe let go of Max's hand. Projected new images. Groups of people. Maps. "Day three, they escalated to full-on ultra-shitty, went after _families_ of our people too. Few hundred more got added to the starting list of the dead. Emotions inside were running pretty fuckin' raw, for obvious reasons. Which made it worse for everyone from then forward. Harder to concentrate, piece the events out - but I guess we all pulled together. A solid week of detailed investigations of all the individual murders, and then designing the person-by-person plans. Work it all backward to try to save them. Meanwhile, each passing day in that stub brought another new wave of timed attacks."

Max scanned the room. "But most of that time is erased, so it's only been a few busy days to you guys?"

Ty nodded. "Yeah. Back then. You know, for us here, the first three days were long lists of simultaneous missions that ended with everyone good. Exhausting back to back, but the final version is the only permanent record, right?"

"That, at least. The attacks started a month ago. Why is this still a problem, guys? Where are we now?"

Chloe stood. "Today's the 18th. For the past few _weeks,_ we've been trying to understand and solve the casualty list from day _five_. We're stuck. It's gotten more complicated each new real-day. Like he said. Taking longer. More to investigate, deconstruct, plan for. And the longer it takes, the greater the toll it takes on everyone, especially with new attacks ongoing. That's how we lost Soph, about a week ago, here. Saving her meant letting a dozen others in ops die. Guess that was the loop before. She insisted this go-round, said they were more necessary than she'd be for finally solving the day. Won't stick. But…that and…the not-sleeping is starting to add up for everyone. I think that kinda shit's part of why they had to call it, back when they were planning the endgame for day four."

"Yeah. That was…fucked up." A tech stared off.

"It _is_ fucked up, but we have to accept that the best we were gonna get was down to two casualties." Chloe's tone was almost defensive. Turned back to Max. "Only so much they could do for us…in the end, we lost a life sciences tech in Mumbai, and a city firefighter in Berlin, after the building evacuation there. There just wasn't any other way for our other selves to find. Couldn't save them all. Not when they were targeting families and more than a thousand other people around the world, including people we saved on prior days."

Ty's expression was pained. "Yeah, with the AMFO trucks under a couple offices too. Everything executing at nearly the same second…"

 _Wait…the same second?! Fuck. Answers_ _ **that**_ _question._ " _That's_ what you meant by coordinated? _Shit…_ okay, but…wait! Day four, you said there were two - why couldn't I bridge those final two people back to life? After? If it was just down to them—"

Chloe shook her head. "Bridge? I don't…know what you mean by that, Max." She shot a confused glance at Ty.

He shrugged.

 _Oh._

Max turned inward.

 _They…don't know._

 _Why would they?_

 _Different timeline; different events._

 _Different…me, too?_

"It didn't happen that way over here, did it? If I had no chill. If… _I was the one_ who went after the dudes on the cargo ship right away, that…means…I didn't stop, take off for the quiet of the void space? Shit. No time for reflection, no working to understand my anger, no re-centering. And no thought to even the possibility that I might hack a way to save the kids. If I left in anger, didn't deal, I must have stayed angry and kept going."

"Wait, what? Brought back? What do you…you mean those poor kids from the boat?"

Max heard Ty, but she was already on a different track. Trying to walk forward the events that led to this reality. "Yeah. But…why? Why did _I_ go after the ship guys in this branch? All I changed ahead of that was the interview. I slept in a little extra without it maybe, but the end of day sleep-cycle should have smoothed any other minor timing lumps out. Or is it…not so simple? _Was it the interview itself?_

"No, not simple. That was a _semi-hostile_ interview, and I had to dance around probing questions, by…getting into a pretty Zen frame…navigating everything back to the core of our purpose. My mind was quiet - on the big picture all that morning, wasn't it? _Is that it? Was that all?_ Wow. That's…nothing extreme…only small ripples, but carried _inside me_ this time. Like, _inner butterfly wings_. And without the added balance brought on by going through that interview process, this branch's version of me must have _acted_ on what I _felt_ after opening the containers. Instead of retreating, making room for a different way.

"And that rolled forward in a negative feedback loop. Getting bigger. I left a note, we went after the Madrid thing directly, instead of handing it off to local cops. And I missed more alone-time, spent working things out for myself; thinking, watching, connecting with _other people_ over the photos I took around the world that day… Without any of those internal dialogs, those opportunities for rebalancing, this version of me must have been angrier, less patient for the meet with Wallace. Missed out on all those conversation loops with him too, I bet. Prolly more confrontational, took a harder line with more absolutes. And of course, after, no karaoke night chat with Sophie and Hector.

"I see where events diverged here. Where I diverged. _This…was my fault, wasn't it?"_ Max leaned forward, elbows to knees.

"Not because of any changes I made while leaving myself the note. It's because I didn't go _through_ with that interview here.

"All this nonsense, from a changed _state of mind_ after missing that single half-hour. Thirty minutes reminding myself, and persuading others, why we're here. Losing that must have been enough to change my mood, narrow my perspective. Enough to manifest forward into a different path for my psyche. And then those changes redirected my actions, unknowingly deleting even _more_ crucial conversations I never had with myself in this branch.

"All those moments of lost introspection…without those escapes, grounding…healing…without…going through all those inner-dialogs, we get this mess - and an arguably less-whole Max. And the me from this side would have _no clue_ about the differences inside, would she? What _she_ was missing. What might have been in place of that anger. Or how events, the world or…how _I_ might have been reshaped as a result.

"Maybe you were right, Chloe…maybe we shouldn't be so quick to blindly trust ourselves, however far ahead. Our information, our intentions, yes, probably. But…maybe not our _judgement_. We could be in so many different places. Imagine more choices, longer cycles. I've always _assumed_ we'd be _better people_ up ahead…faith, I guess…but…maybe...it's more complicated than that. Subtler.

"We've always known the 'us' forward might bend slightly with each note back, each message…each change. Small tweaks. Not necessarily bad. But, are we as much of a moving target as the restof the future? Could our swings be this wide?

"I honestly didn't think _we_ could be so fragile. Especially over such a short timescale as this. Damn. Might need to be way more careful with ourselves than we've been. With each other. More than I've been with you. It may be as important as anything else…to make sure we're the best possible 'us' up there."

Max sat back. "You were onto something, Chlo. You went for the extreme examples, so I blew you off. I thought you were being all anti…but…you've always been better with patterns. Worries bubbling up, without knowing why you're worried. I dismissed you. Sorry—"

Chloe leaned back, eyes to the ceiling. Waved. "Uh. Max? I know it probably super-seems like you're talking to us, but…"

Max came back to the moment. To everyone staring.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry guys. I shoulda hit the pause button. Got lost in my brain for a sec, just working stuff out." Max put her hand on Chloe's knee. "I know you're brilliant, Chlo, but…I'm not giving you enough credit for being something more."

Chloe smiled. "Well, thanks? And sorry we're all eavesdropping on your outer-inner-dialog. But, if I'm following along with any of that shit you're saying…just…please - don't overthink it, dude. Okay? You know how you get."

"Yeah…hard not to." Max shrugged, motioned her hand around. "That this timeline even exists…it's proof how important even the smallest—"

Chloe shrugged. "Meh."

"Huh?"

"Meh. You're special, but…you're no different from the rest of us. You get agency in your _present awareness_. Your working memory. Your version of 'now.' That's it. That's your range of motion."

"Is it?" Max looked up, around.

Chloe nodded. "Sure. Everything outside might be fluid for you, and you're more fluid than any of us, but yeah - that one thing is still fundamentally inescapable. You know? You have limits, Max. So, not everything's gonna be perfect. Us included. So what? Have we ever been? Was that ever a goal? Maybe we _are_ just a million different versions of our old imperfect selves up ahead. That sounds like the most realistic picture, honestly. But that doesn't make anything we do a failure. It's still us. Still trying. Whenever. Wherever."

Max shook her head. "But the me in this timeline - wasn't anywhere near as together as I am now."

"Well, that's just like, your opinion, man." Chloe smiled, tired. "You know yourself best…but you haven't seemed different to me. Any less real, any less caring. For your lifeline, it's been five long-ass months recycling through versions of this same timeline, and you're still a motherfuckin' trooper. I've seen most of it through the rewind cubes, and I don't know how you keep it together. But…nothing you've done has been out of character or out of line. And who's to say your shade in this timeline wouldn't have eventually gotten to the same place you feel you have. Only, maybe in her own time, in a different way? You automatically assume she's worse off for having taken a different path, but the same applies. What might _you_ be missing by taking yours? Only to pick it up in your own time?"

"Chloe…I…I know I could have handled things better is all. This timeline might have gone different if I'd—"

"No. No. That's some bullshit right there. All you did was miss an interview, dude. Chill. You didn't decide to buy and sell people. You didn't bomb a fuckin' train. You didn't make the call to murder thousands of people. _They_ did all that. Not you. This mess is all on them. That's the job."

"Well, I know that, but—"

Chloe shrugged, shook her head. "Stop. Not your fault. Shit timeline. Roll of the dice. Reboot and don't over-analyze it. Not everything's gonna be an easy win. Maybe not even second or third try. But - _'…little by little, we advance with each turn…'"_

Max finished, " _'…that's how a drill works.'_ I know…I get it Chlo, but this isn't—"

Chloe cut her off. "Sometimes, we can fix the bad shit, like we've been trying to do here. Sometimes it takes a total redirect like you're about to do. And sometimes we can't fix everything. Maybe including ourselves. If there's no other way, it has to be okay for us to accept that. It does. We've…all…apparently…had to deal with bad compromises."

Ty, quiet, "Sometimes, there's no good option but muddle through. We are who we are at every step - and we're all we got. We're all _any of them_ have."

"That's all the more reason to be careful." Max folded her arms.

Chloe swiveled to Max. "Says 'Miss Infinite Lives' over here. Whatever. The past is only set as long as _you_ let it be. You've seen this reality show now, and you'll make it so it never happened. It's fine. But, because of these amazing gifts, tomorrow's _always_ gonna be squishy."

"Us too." Max raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah. Us too. To a point. But we're still us. And so, yeah. What we do today matters for that. But the future's not _real_ 'til we're there, and _we decide_ that it'll make an okay past to build on. The capital-F future is all an illusion, Max. Hell, even this 'here and now' is an illusion, if we're being real. Thank…well, thanks to you."

"You know that's not exactly right, Chlo. My present becomes the real future every time I go back and forward again. And the changes we make to that reality aren't any less real."

"Not all changes are permanent."

"Some can be. Besides, you know that doesn't describe the true shape of things from outside."

"But we're _not_ outside, Max. _You're not outside._ Not all the way. Even jumping back, you're still in your present, to you. Think about it - can you do anything in your future right now? Or ours? Can you?"

"Well, no…"

"That's all I'm saying. We all joke, but you're not omnipotent, dude. Cut yourself a fuckin' break - including this branch's expression of you, you know? She's been trying pretty fucking hard. And if she were anyone besides you, you'd be a million times more impressed with her. I am.

"So what, you reshuffled your deck. Bad guys reacted to a change. Whatever." Chloe did an old-school three-finger salute. "Sure. Be mindful, same as any of us. Use your best judgement. Act with love and kindness and all the light-side stuff you can bring. But don't second guess yourself to death, doll. We all know your heart's in the right place, and we'll always do the best we can. That'll always be enough.

"I'm just parroting your words back to you, by the way. You told me something nearly identical not two days ago. It was a…a bad day. We made some mistakes. You shared some personal things with me that helped me realize we probably always will. Some, we might not ever be able to take back. And that that's life, sometimes. Even for us. But it's important to keep going, fix what we can, forgive ourselves, and each other, for what we can't. We're all carried forward by our time. You too, in your way. Don't judge too harshly."

Her reference, to sharing something personal…it wasn't lost on Max.

 _What might I be missing, indeed…_

 _Even without Sophie and Hector's breakthrough session, and holding on to all that anger, this version of me somehow opened up to Chloe in a way that I still haven't been able to over there. Not yet. Maybe she's right. Shuffling the deck is just shuffling the deck. Card order changes, but still the same cards, right? Same game? I don't know._

"So funny, Chlo. You were a lot less philosophical like an hour ago. I feel like we've switched places."

Chloe pursed her lips. "Please. Hardly the first time. And…rough loops."

Others nodded, even if they weren't entirely following along.

"Thanks. I'll…keep all this in mind. You're probably right. Sorry guys, for the detours. Trying to see the best way out for everyone. Do you mind? Can we keep going with the tear-down? Think I can process this other shit in my own time."

Chloe held her hand out to Max. "Let's…take a walk. Get some outside air. You'll feel it differently if I show you."

"Okay?"

Chloe, to the others, "Smoke 'em if you got 'em. Just stay live on comms, guys?"

* * *

 **Ian** clipped the stream.

They were almost to the woods, minutes from entering a dark zone. Switched gears away from the kids.

Brought up a new hacked feed.

Had access to the video, but there didn't seem to be any audio of their conversation. The lip-reading program kept up with most of Price's side, but Caulfield's back was to the camera.

What was decipherable read like a basic recent-history lesson.

Internet rumors were a curious thing.

For as far under the radar as they pretended to be, they left a lot of eyewitnesses over the years. Some of whom later shared their experiences. Small groups at first, seeking each other out. But movements begin that way. Inevitabilities.

Experiences shared became the kernels of truth from which the wildest speculations eventually grew. With the net effect of making all of it suspect. Driving it underground.

It was smart of Price, in a way. If unoriginal.

Redacting. Or injecting disinformation along the way, muddying the waters.

Egging each side against the other from the shadows.

Let people do what they do from there.

A small push with each swing of the pendulum, adding more energy.

Informational tai-chi.

All that motion, to maintain plausible deniability.

Easier to craft a blatant lie than manage others' truths.

But there was 'truth,' and there was _truth_.

And he was running out of time.

* * *

 **Max** took Chloe's outstretched hand. "Okay. Where to?"

Chloe blew a holo-map into the air. Zoomed down. "Here first."

The air changed with her fold. Bright afternoon, but cold. Half a mile over Fort Wayne, Indiana.

Chloe pointed, added quietly, "Take us down there?"

Sky transitioned to ground at the edge of another parking lot. This time, near an entry gate. The sign overhead colorfully proclaimed it to be a children's zoo. Chloe kept Max's hand, led them off to the right of the ticket booths. To what appeared to be a makeshift memorial along a chain-link fence.

Candles, photos, cards, and flowers lined the walk. Most of the artifacts had been exposed to winter weather for too long. It was difficult to make out who it was for.

"What is this?" Max knelt down. Straightened a bedraggled teddy bear.

"Was going to be a new rescue mission. They were life-long friends. Anna and Chelsea. Locals, in their early 20's. They gave birth within a few months of each other, a couple years ago. And on our Day Five, they decided to brave the winter and meet each other at the zoo. Have fun day together with their kids."

The memorial was beginning to take shape. Two sets of photos, faded, running. Neither laminated. The bears.

Max's heart sank. "Oh man."

"Yeah. The police report labeled them _unfortunate bystanders_." Chloe stood behind her.

Max looked back. "Who was the target?"

Chloe put her hands in her pockets. Behind her, a faint holo of an SUV drove away. Three men inside. "Near as we can tell, they were. Change-up. Soft targets. Each of the four victims was hit by a dozen rounds fired from a car window. It didn't make sense to the cops that they could be the real targets though, so the drive-by crossfire narrative stuck in the news. Less scary for the public than random."

Max rose up, turned. "You don't think that's right."

"Cameras showed they were the only ones there." The holo of the escaping car faded to nothing with distance.

"This is…fucking terrible, Chloe. But…what's the connection?"

"The shooters." Chloe tossed out a holo of men running from the open front door of a suburban home. "These same three pricks showed up two days earlier, a town away. Caught on camera leaving the double-homicide of the parents of one of our molecular biology researchers in Chicago. The driver of the car was killed three days after that in an explosion. Darwin Award candidate wired up the detonator with a closed circuit to power. They were all enthusiastic amateurs."

"Bad guys doing bad-guy things? You've vetted for coincidence."

Ty's voice in her earpiece. "The killing they ran from, it was one we prevented on the final pass of Day Two. Put cops outside the house. Never happened here. And that explosion, it was in a basement parking garage across the street from our Chicago facility."

"Okay. That's…rewind cube stuff?"

"Yeah. It's like that. This memorial, these four murders, they're new to this most recent timeline. We saved our guy's parents but didn't apprehend the shooters, leaving them free to target someone new days later. Every change changes something. It's been like trying to squeeze pudding with your hand. We've seen other patterns in the data, between passes." Chloe took a deep breath. "And that's a good segue back to our loops - we left off before Five. And that's where they've jacked us up pretty hard."

A semi-truck sped by behind them.

Once the background noise died down, Ty gave her highlights. "We got a heads-up from the prior branches that it was coming, but it was still a surprise when it caught up to us. Our turn to lead. They left a hundred bombs in a hundred cities. Conventional, not enough to trigger collapses, but loud. A few targeted remote sites of ours, or walking distance. You know, but most were placed random. These assholes added EOD to our daily rescue drills. While going after more and more of our people, more and more of our loved ones each new day. Stepping up to civilians, like those girls and their li'l babies. A few celebs, politicians. That picked up later, got messy. Dialed up the false flags…"

 _More of those?_

Chloe must have read her expression and misinterpreted. "Not big by themselves, but a border checkpoint here, a rocket attack there. Seemingly designed to provoke, stir shit up where tensions are already high."

 _Oh. Not just against us with van stickers._ "They're…trying to turn cold wars into hot ones? Wait…why? This doesn't make any kinda sense."

"That's just what it looks like. Could also be normal history. But the timing is suspect." Chloe projected a few headlines. A political assassination. Embassy truck bomb. A compromised shooter firing across a DMZ. "A normal timeline, we'd take care of most of these. But we've been busy. The events don't seem to have changed loop to loop, but it's not like there's an open dialog going. We've been keeping an eye on it for a few loops. Maybe it's a bigger plan we haven't seen in full outlines yet. But it hasn't been our main worry, either. At this rate, it'd take you years of personal looping just to clear the days of live events between day five and where we are now. Which is where this other stuff would start to matter for the final timeline. But…every day bogs us down more. Takes its own unique, escalating toll as they think of new ways to fuck with us - mostly by fucking with everyone else."

Ty came in on the line. "Gives us a rolling preview on what their plans are for each new calendar day, but…knowing and fixing are two different things. And we still gotta get through the permanent run at number five first."

Max couldn't look at the bears anymore. Best friends. Young. Little kids. The whole scene was too much. She slowly migrated toward the booths. "So that's it. This is their end game? It's down to open warfare?"

Chloe followed.

Ty grumbled, "One-sided. We're strictly on defense, and half their efforts hit at innocents. Like, a week ago, the other bodies started dropping. Shipping containers of mutilated corpses showing up on the sides of highways in Austria. Or dumped off trucks in LA. Dark, psyops shit. And yesterday, gas attacks in the London subways. We knew we were heading back to the end of day four, once we operationalized five, so it's been a little easier for everyone to deal with that aspect. Thankfully, sounds like all of this bad is undone now - cause between you and me, this isn't sustainable like this. Not if we keep losing more people at the end of each real day. We either need to bring some offense back to our game, or we're off our mission till they're done playing with us."

Max shook her head. "Okay, wait…what the fuck do they _want?"_

Chloe shrugged. "No demands. No dialog. Just staged violence. Maybe it's leading to something. Maybe it's that they don't know what the fuck else to do."

Max pressed her eyes shut, confused. "Gah. But…these idiots are more paranoid than we are about keeping a low profile for themselves. Did that change? I mean, are people starting to figure out that they're here, or what does everybody think is happening with all this murdery bullshitty behavior?"

"Hold please." Chloe held out her hand for Max. "We have one more stop." She gave Max the holo-pointer. "Come down from two-hundred, aim for that roof. You'll see it."

Max was glad to leave. It was sad. Pointless waste. Not just the victims…people. But their families, everyone who knew them. _More Rachels._ This was the enemy. This was the fucking darkness. _Anti-wings_ set loose on the world.

She folded them away.

Cold transitioned to warm early morning skies. Clear blue. She and Chloe descended to the edge of a hotel roof overlooking Waikiki Beach. Hotel towers, turquoise seas, white sands, palms, breakwaters. Diamond Head jutting to their south.

Chloe leaned over the safety wall.

Max followed her gaze to a construction site across the street.

"So, to answer your question - people haven't noticed anything. That's maybe the saddest part. It's been buried in the daily noise." Chloe shrugged. "Shit happens every day. We're looking for the patterns, and our people are half the variables, so we see it. Only everything's a local story out there to most people. Or a very faraway story. Same as usual."

Max scanned the horizon. "There's more here than I'm seeing, isn't there?"

"Not your fault. That lot down there."

The block was fenced off by chain link, with visual barriers at street level. Behind the fences, worn paths snaked through piles of concrete rubble, steel rebar. Backhoes and loaders filled the trucks, which carted the debris away in a trail of rising white dust.

Chloe projected a holo-overlay of the building that used to be there, aligned to Max's line of sight. A floor a third of the way up gave way, pancaked down. The structure above collapsed down onto it a level at a time, compressing each as everything raced to the ground. Dust blew out with each failure, quickly obscured the view.

Chloe waited 'til the render playback finished. Explained. "That was a hotel; it went down on day seven. Thankfully, it's offseason, so it wasn't full."

"Explosion?"

Chloe shifted the holo to a close-up of a column, slowly cracking in half. "Not the way you're thinking. There was some remodeling going on on the tenth floor, a conference center. But over that weekend, someone made holes in all the support columns and poured in a non-explosive demolition grout. Stuff expands at like 17,000 psi, breaking the concrete apart from inside. Thankfully, it's a slow process. Hours at least. A maintenance worker noticed cracks intruding into the columns on the ninth floor. He raised the alarm while there was time to get everyone out. It could have been a thousand people dead otherwise."

Max folded her hands, elbows on the wall. "We know it was _our_ bad guys?"

"You parked your parents in that hotel, once we realized they were targeting families."

Max snapped back to Chloe. "Right. Dammit. They went after mom and dad?! Are they okay? Where are they now?"

"They're fine; they're fine. Guest apartment at HQ. We planned to move them there directly next loop. See if that headed off this collapse."

"Gotcha." _The hell._

"Yeah." Chloe shrugged. "So, this is what I mean - to the untrained eye, down there, it looks like a typical building teardown and rebuild. Quiet. Normal. That happens, so it blends. The local PD and state government know the real story. They looped in DHS, who are worried, but the press has been kept quiet. FBI pressured NDAs on the guests and staff, and that's how it is.

"With media globally, there's been an uptick in attention around the coordinated bombings Ty mentioned, calling it terrorism. Some of the celeb stuff, ODs and whatever. But the press miss a lot - and the stuff they catch, they don't connect. Why would they? It doesn't pattern on us, or _them_. Anyone. We're not the only tenants in any of our buildings that they've targeted. From the outside, it's just another sometimes-busy news day. One that we'll make go away in the final pass if we can ever get our shit together. And…well, never…doesn't matter now…

"I mean, just so you're prepared if it comes up again, Max. I've only taken you to two events. Shown you two stories. Now multiply them out by a few thousand. Understand them. In detail. Plan for them. Execute the saves. That's been our job, day to day. And the bad-guys react to our changes, do different shit on subsequent days, so not everything from prior loops applies more than a day out. It's hard to build a final master map or anything." Chloe turned, leaned back against the wall.

Max looked down to the trees. "Shit, guys. Okay. I totally get why this has been a handful. Ty, earlier you said you don't think our fix efforts are sustainable? For us to keep going like this? I'm just thinking ahead. Can you elaborate?" Max pushed away from the wall. Motioned to Chloe to head to the beach-side.

Ty paused. "I mean, I was speaking to you from a more emotional place, you know? But you heard how long you've been workin' through this, and how long we've been working on day five. It doesn't matter to any of us once we're reset for each try, but it's weight on your shoulders. And if fixin' each day starts stretching into months of planning, and more for the refinement passes, that's a lot for you to carry. With no end in sight."

Max considered. _I've carried more. Longer. Not that I'm anxious to repeat it._

Chloe killed the holo, caught up to Max. "That's where you and I and a few whole floors have been focused during off-hours. Try to get at something that breaks their cycle."

"Going after the cause, not the symptoms?"

Chloe jumped up, sat on the wall facing the ocean, legs dangling. "That was the hope. Bust whoever's runnin' the show, take 'em out before they can start. Team effort across timelines, so we all come out shiny."

Max joined Chloe on the wall, legs over the side. "Hence the R&D loops. Got it. That makes sense." _Steps forward, steps back._ "Was that the yacht? What have we been doing?"

Chloe looked out over the beach. "Oh yeah. Uh, foreground-background, I've been about nine-hundred percent focused on forensic reconstructions of each murder or group attack, so we know what each thing is, and what our options are. How to solve for it, and how to communicate it to our past selves in a way that doesn't require them to know everything we know to follow our plans.

"You've seen two examples of new ones we were going to have to solve after the changes from last pass - but, each one of these is a full op to run the fix. Project managers, collaborating on tactical…takes time to plot the critical paths since nothing's in isolation. Some events interconnect, which complicates pathing, and they all trigger in a narrow window, so that's been mostly fucked. Then there's the pudding principal, catching new asshole behavior in subsequent loops. Even with local LE involved in a lot of these saves, we're beyond stretched. So 'free time' is…well, you get it.

"And you, you've been riding herd all along the way. Trying to optimize your path, folding in for otherwise impossible saves, closing a few gaps on each execution day. But that's second-by-second choreography we have to get right, while everyone else is in motion."

Max crossed her ankles. Bounced her heels off the side. "That wasn't enough for day five, though, was it?"

"Not yet. You have a sense for how complicated this is. Guess we've tried two-dozen different variations of plans, over and over, but the best we've done so far at the end of day five is seventy dead while sacrificing two office buildings, Geneva and Lagos, along with a subway train full of people in Seoul. Unacceptable for a keeper day. So, we study, we plan, we make note of the new shit, then lather, cube, repeat. But at some point, if we can't do any more than move the names of the dead around, we might have to call it and start to worry about day six."

 _That attrition is gonna get frustrating._ "There has to be a better way."

Chloe met Max's eyes. "We're not done yet, but with that in mind, a bunch of our folks have been looking for patterns too. The meta. You know, with the timeline blown 'til we fix shit, there's not much other work anyone can do that'll stick past the resets, so it's all hands. Brains. Good ones."

"How's that working?"

"In the end, some bad guys get ID'd when they fail, fuck up, leave open comm trails, sometimes there are differences in money flows between one timeline and the next, or events. All that data traveling from one branch to the next by rewind cubes adds up. Sometimes there are big clues in the changes, so we have to compare them all each time. A break in a few events between four timelines led us to that lovely multi-purpose hole under a building back in Ukraine."

Ty chimed in, "Comm relay and bomb shop. Max, you were playing with bomb and trigger parts earlier, by the way."

Max wiped her hands on her pant leg.

A nervous tech back in Lviv spoke up for the first time, "With the pointers here, we decrypted a few vidcom streams that led to embedded data traffic that led us to a rotating set of private channels on public comm satellites. Hacked in, DF'd the distant ends, filtered, and that's why we landed you off the east coast of Africa earlier."

"That was the deal with the yacht? Bad guy, or…?" Max looked at Chloe.

Chloe nodded, projected a map with tracks, metadata. "That was the mission. Find out. Was a lead. Boat's course up and down the coast of Somalia was a suspicious endpoint. Heavy data traffic, and the timing of it too, with bursts before and after the wave cycles each day. Like there was some relay or coordination or reporting going on. They're outside the cargo lanes, in a place yachts like that don't usually like to be.

"Final nail on 'go' was a piece of CIA intel one of my IAs pulled off a report right before you left. Local pirates on the beach were aware of the boat. Guess it looked like a VIP or fat target a while back. Three crews went out after it; two were allegedly vaporized. Direct quote from the one who came back. Probably left alive so no more would try. The locals have kept distant since. Boat's listed as charter out of Monaco, but that's probably bullshit with the level of future-forward military tech you ran into.

"You were only there for recon, but they still lit you up once you hit the perimeter. Suggests it was part of somebody's checklist. Went as expected for 'em. But you were only inside for a few minutes when you came out as the new you. You know the rest."

Max closed her eyes. Listened to the waves below while she got everything straight in her head. "Okay. This tangle sounds uber-sucky, guys. Too many ripples in the pond. Ponds. Internal and external. Jesus. They've been sitting on this the whole time, waiting. It kicked off here _before_ the publish date of the first journal thing in my old timeline. With no interview to launch their little character assassination play - they stepped up the clock to actual assassinations. No fucking bueno.

"They're targeting different weaknesses in each of their approaches, though. Last branch, they played off our secrecy. In this branch, it's that we give a shit, but can't be everywhere at once. They're not so dumb. Well…I mean. They're not _smart_. But not dumb, either."

Max was still for a moment.

 _What else could they go after?_

 _What other plans might they be sitting on?_

 _The intel from these timelines would be a fucking treasure trove though._

 _Maybe enough to start going after families directly._

Chloe looked down. "There's only so much anyone can do in the same physical moment. I wish you could interact with shit in the freeze, but…you've tried as close as you can without blowing things apart or dissociating completely. We're pushing it here, Max. I agree with Ty. Even with help, new drones. It's why we were playing a longer game, trying to work up the chain. But you…we…might see this again in another life. Least it won't be a surprise next time."

Max nodded. "Yeah. Meanwhile, we have to find another way to navigate our last branch, or just…power through the media BS somehow. Take the hits. This was a bad trade."

"Agreed."

"Babe, would you mind though, giving me the cumulative _everything_ that's happened since the 20th, on a cube? All data from all loops? Full archive?"

Chloe pulled a cube from her pocket. Fired blue. "Sure."

 _Oh! No! Shit! Wait!_ Max quickly added, "Second thought. Um. _Maybe edit out the 'personal sharing' conversation you mentioned earlier._ It's one I want to have over there, but…it hasn't happened yet. You understand?"

Chloe stopped. Nodded. "I do. Better face to face than second-hand."

"Thank you."

"Wait a sec though, Max - are you rewinding all the way back to the 20th this time? Walking forward the slow way?"

Max shook her head. Stood up on the edge. "No. I'll undo what I did, pretty much. Pop back, pull the note."

"Okay. Then, remind me - why am I prepping you a cube, exactly? You can't—"

"Oh! Sorry - should have explained. New experiment. There's a chance we might be able to use Luna as a kind of cache for ourselves. A data-relay across hard timeline resets. It's behind us - surprise - but thanks to FutureMe's pathfinding, it's always been a foldable coordinate."

"That works if you park stuff before the branch point split off…yeah. Wish I'd known for sure there was a time offset. I might have made the connection earlier. A time-isolated drop box…" Chloe rose up next to her. "Oh well. As the wise man once said, _'Use the forks, Luke…'"_

Max pinched her nose. "You suck. And I still have to verify it'll even work."

"It'll work. I'm sure you guys have realized some of the super-weird shit you could do with this technique, right?" Chloe laughed - for the first time since Max arrived in this branch.

Max smiled. "We've tagged that for future discussion. Yes. One crisis at a time."

"Okay, dude, you've been cubed." Chloe tossed it to Max. Scooted off the wall to the roof. "Go. Make this all not suck giant donkey parts. And if they pull this shit again, it'll be a different set of start-conditions, maybe go some other way, but there's a shit-ton on here we would've killed to have back on day one. Real family names. Established staging areas. Resource and network lists. Hierarchies. Targets, financial accounts, comms.

"With a coordinated pre-emptive strike, we could take out at least some of their network's first four days of shitty plans before they can act. Drop in the bucket. They have more after, so it's probably not enough, but it's not nothing, either. Maybe enough of a bloody nose to make them stop and rethink pissin' us off before they start next time."

Max smiled. "Yeah. Thanks, Chloe. Everybody on the line. I'm so sorry that you had to go through all of this. My fault. We'll try to do better over there - I know this sucked, but at least we won't let it be a wasted effort."

Ty responded. "No arguments from this side of the globe."

Max, quiet, "It'll be like she was never gone."

Ty might have cleared his throat.

Chloe stretched her arms overhead. "It's all trial and error, end of the day. Allllright, everybody, talk amongst yourselves. We're signing off. I wanna say goodbye to my darling savior."

Took a minute for everyone to say their goodbyes, express their thanks - not only for themselves but in some cases, for their families, friends. More.

The facts of the timeline didn't convey the personal impacts, the emotional toll she saw in each of them. Or experienced herself when shown. Hit everyone close to home.

Max took Chloe's hand, folded from the roof to the beach. Early morning sunshine snuck in under the palm trees. Waves lapped at the breakwater, shoreline.

"I love you, Max." Chloe pulled her in, hugged her hard. "You have no idea how big a relief this is. I just…thanks. Could I be even more selfish and ask for a kiss before you go?"

"I might be able to swing that." Max held her closer. After a lingering kiss, Chloe pulled back, hesitated. "About…that other thing…it'll be okay you know."

Max looked away. Whispered, "No spoilers."

Chloe nodded. "Okay. No spoilers."

"See you in a few."

* * *

 **Max** folded away. Carried the meta-cube back to Luna.

 _Multiple timelines. Hard fought._

 _We'll put it to good use._

She removed it from her pocket, set it next to the first cube from her original timeline. She never had the chance to come back for it. _Or a need, after all._

She wondered if they could be the same physical cube.

Chloe could tell.

 _Later._

She visualized, folded back to earth a moment later, to their penthouse.

She took a last look out their living room window. "Bye, timeline. Sorry for all the trouble I put you through."

Then she jumped backward to January 20th, into her body at her desk, an instant after she left last time. Pulled the taped note to herself from the emitter, crumpled, tossed it into the bin.

It left a blotch of sticky residue behind.

She was about to jump forward again, but her eyes lingered on the emitter.

She puzzled at it for a second. _Something…_

Squinted. "Huh."

Reached to wipe it off.

Stopped herself.

 _Wait._

 _That…_

 _Is this_ _ **why**_ _?_

 _I…remember this, from the first pass._

 _The feel of the haptics, seemed broken, mushy that morning._

 _Did I do that? Just now? With this?!_

 _Can't be._

 _That's_ _ **not**_ _how it works!_

 _If I just did this, that, I shouldn't remember from before…this was…unless…_

… _are memories leaking?_

 _Or…have I spent this last month in an_ _ **open loop**_ _?_

Her breath was short.

 _What just happened, Max?_

 _What did you do?_

The wall clock flipped forward a minute.

 _Shit._

 _Figure it out later._

 _Gotta go._

 _Come on._

 _Quick like a bunny._

She leapt forward again.

* * *

 **Chloe** opened her eyes. Cold, cloudy day. Max was still there, standing awkwardly in a half-slush, half-grease junkyard puddle in the Bronx. "Uh. You gonna go back? Or…?"

"Well, shit. That didn't work." Max rolled her eyes. Shrugged as she fell forward into Chloe. "Ehnnnng."

Chloe caught her, held her up. "Wait - what happened? Are you _back?"_

Max pushed away. "Yeah. Bad branch. Hang on. Sorry. Oh. Hey, Hector. _Wait, what are you doing here?"_

"Ouch? Love you too, Max." Hector tossed the tennis ball. The dogs splashed after it, muddy, panting, happy.

"He's been tagging along since Taco-time. You okay?" _We all had that whole existential confab across two continents together, and —_

Max shrugged. "Shit. What the hell, man?" Spun away, then back in a frustrated circle.

"Max?"

"I only lingered _a few extra seconds_. Fucking ripples. Easier if you see it. Sorry. BRB." Max jittered, shifted position. Tossed Chloe a cube she didn't have a moment before. "Here."

Chloe investigated. A record of a nearly identical version of reality, including her own POV, ending less than a minute before. A few super-minor differences. _Like, Hector wasn't here with us the last pass. Okay - wow._ Chloe ran it backward, compared. Couldn't see any obvious cause of the effects. She shrugged. "Weird. Small perturbations, but aside from Hector, nothing substantial or world-breaking."

Max relaxed. "Okay, good. Still weird AF. No offense, Hector."

"None taken. And _you're_ weird AF. What happened?"

Max rolled her eyes at Chloe. "Remember earlier when I said I'd rather stare down bad-guy armies than deal with all the press stuff?"

Chloe and Hector both answered "Yeah."

They shouted, "Jinx!" over each other. Laughed.

Max closed her eyes. "You guys are too much for me right now. Um. Okay, well, it's still mostly true - _if_ it was me facing them. But turns out, that's not how it goes in practice."

 _Talking in riddles._ "Vague," Chloe shrugged, shared her impatient look.

"Yeah. So…sorry, guys. I guess…reason I'm back - we have to stay. This all…has to stay. We have to deal with this timeline. One way or another. Sorry, Chlo - wait for it." Max tossed her the second cube.

Chloe caught it. Fired it up. Concurrent time-stamped reality-streams and data caches from more than a hundred major and minor loops, all nesting, forking from one alternate branch of reality. Her cursory indexing only scratched the surface, but it was astonishing. _"Jesus Fucking Christ, Max!"_

"Yep." Max shared a weak smile. "Right? So…that all happened. Least we know their plan B. Anything useful in there for us?"

Chloe was appropriately whelmed. "Yes! _Absofuckinglutely all of it._ Hang on. I need to get this to the core where I can run it for real. Fuck, Max! Sucked mega-hard for other-us, but this is…good-guy gold. Breaking our dry spell for sure."

"In a good way or?"

"Yes! Not everything, lemmie…walk that comment back, but…there are two-dozen legit mid-tier families flipped and doxed in _excruciating_ detail, plus, thousands of foot-soldiers we caught in the act, or ID'd during corrective actions across loops, tons of stuff Sophie sucked out of their brains. Bad actors are from all over, and…while they're only following their leaders, they're far less important individually than where they came from - shit - and how the C &C and money maps…the controls that show up even in a quick flip-plate analysis between lines…"

"Anybody gonna translate for the guy who isn't here?" Hector pulled his hair back with one hand, wrestled the ball from a dog-mouth with the other.

Chloe, still streaming, "Intel. Affiliations…contractors, gangs, business networks, crime syndicates mixed with financial services, corporate security, governments, militaries. Minor subset, but fuck.

"Okay - random sample dive - millions in cash moving from a thousand small unrelated churches in eastern Europe through blinds to a handful of state-sponsored arms dealers in Africa, supplying guns to rebel fronts in Central America…who are linked to drug operations heading north, with agency permission. And three secure texts ID-ing them as the source of more than twenty of the local Day 3 hitters in the alt branches, targeting our friends and family in the southwest US. IDs, tracks, everything.

"Point is - in all of this - they're…using what they've got, which is their own distributed family infrastructures."

"How's that different from…I mean, duh?"

"No - it's where they fucked up big-time, dude. There are some holding companies and shells and popups and the usual obfuscation, but even so, they're exposing the outlines of their networks too - in _different ways_ across _different loops_ , compared and contrasted between more than a hundred timelines. This is like pure data-point heaven in here. A hundred-plus realities, all differential signal? There's never been _anything_ like this, Max. We gotta head home. Now. Please? I wanna play."

Max motioned Hector over. "K. And since we gotta deal with this timeline, maybe it's time to stop fucking around with our current media situation too. Doesn't seem so bad in comparison, does it?"

Chloe, eyes to the horizon, processing, "No, it doesn't."

Hector teased, "Gonna be honest. Feeling pretty left out over here."

Max locked arms with him. "I'm sorry, Hector. We'll catch you up at regular speed." Max took Chloe's elbow on the other side. "Before I left, you mentioned there's some Alex dude to chase down? Plus, we gotta corner Juliet's boss, Tanner. Talk to Wallace again. Brute force loop so we don't compromise him. Figure that out later. Then find Juliet. Get ourselves out of all of this shit - but very carefully."

"Dudette. Alex. But yeah to the rest. Into action, then." Chloe continued to scan. "I'll signal-flare Jillian and her peeps. Let HQ know what's happening, and that we're comin' in hot. We need to spin agents and teams of smartypants to go through all of this glorious data-loot, and we'll need to dev coordinated plans on a couple fronts."

Max interjected, "…and we need contingencies. Cause the second we extricate ourselves from this press bullshit, I'm worried that all this other stuff is coming next."

"Could always go look for that yacht again."

"Great minds."

Chloe hesitated. "First things. You glossed over the extrication from our current media problems part, made that sound easy. It won't be."

"I know. Handwave. But maybe we…listen to Jillian this time? She's right. We should let the experts expert."

"Yeah. And…last thing - a caution for all of us as we troll this data - this other timeline shit _was_ somewhere on their back-burner. But remember Max, _you were also different_ in that loop. Clearly. And no, I'm not gonna say I told you so. Or that you told me so. Sorry - just catching up on your coherent rambling about the future-us stuff with alt-me.

"But the big difference is, in this reality, you gave the families an honest explanation of what we're doing, and why. Left a reasonable, face-saving out for everyone. Over there in that timeline, you just backed everyone into a big 'fuck you' corner together. The differences between our timelines go deeper than a simple A and B plan. They were all assholes over there, but let's not leap straight to prevenge on people who might seek redemption or otherwise be helpful to us - not without giving _our plan_ a chance to work first."

Max nodded. Got the message. "Fair enough. Let's hit it?" Called over her shoulder, "Bye for now, pup-pups. I'll come back and rescue your human before dinner. Promise." Max looked at Chloe, then Hector. "Arms and legs. Bus's leaving."

The cold overcast vanished.

Max took them to the terrarium back home. Flat ground. Wide open space. Toasty.

Chloe leapt into action on the local upload, tasked a few intelligent agents to start running with all the data.

All three of them fast-walked toward the elevator.

Chloe side-glanced Max. "The rewind cubes were a good innovation. But this whole bouncing them off the moon thing - that was inspired, dude. _Real_ data continuity across hard-reset timelines? Fucking game-changer, Max. For reals. Nice job."

"Thanks, Chlo. Full team effort. As always."

"Let's get this party started."

* * *

 **Chloe** warmed. The bright pressure of morning light overwhelmed her closed eyelids, spilled through. Scents in the air around her aspired to tropical springtime, all salt air, flower buds and light breezes whispering through the palms. Morning Honolulu traffic, waves, and birdsong talked over each other respectfully.

 _Could be worse final moments._

Max was gone, leaving Chloe alone on the beach.

After resting a beat, she opened her eyes, mentally patted herself down. _Still here. Max must have made a pitstop home before—_

"Hey, Chlo." Behind her.

 _Ah. Okay._ Chloe felt a quick relief at the temporary stay of impending whatever. Loose sand gave way beneath her boots as she pivoted back to the waves, toward Max. Almost joking, she asked, "What'd you forget? I was…freakin' out a little, wondering why we're still here."

Behind Max, the blue horizon stretched out to infinity. She had that look like she was holding in her smile, savoring the moment before revealing the punch-line to her own joke. When she spoke, her voice was strange, cadence slow. "I never forget. Law of conservation of Chloes." Her eyes twinkled.

"Huh?" Chloe's attention blew past Max's unfamiliar outfit. Something else. A flicker. _Something_ moved across her collarbone. Difficult to resolve in the sunshine, with the sparkles off the water, but it was almost like she caught a weird bounce of light off a window.

Another dim pin-point raced across Max's lip. Something else followed, larger.

Chloe subconsciously calculated the angles, looking for the source behind them. Failed.

Max's body was 2% brighter than ambient.

A wave hit the breakwater, splashed up to hang in mid-air.

The horizon-line directly behind Max deflected ever so slightly.

 _Wait… Is that…?_

Chloe saw another something, zoomed to the details. A barely-visible disk of light pinwheeled across the bridge of Max's nose, tumbled, raced _**beneath**_ her freckles. Rolled edgewise across her left cheek to disappear into her hairline.

 _W.T.F.? "…Max!?"_

Max wrinkled her nose. "Hello, love." Lips parted. "We have this rule, where I'm from. _No Chloe left behind._ "

They weren't illusions - tiny pinpricks of brilliance traced beneath her skin, like an inner planetarium shining a changing universe of diamond starlight across her shoulders, neck, hands… Other stars blurred by, while whole clusters, nebulas, shifted perspective across her body with every subtle motion.

Max presented her hand to Chloe like it was an offering. A lifeline. "Come on. We can save Emo too, if we're quick."


	20. Interval

**Chloe** took Max's outstretched hand by instinct. "You're—" _…warm!_

"…just li'l ole me."

Chloe was mesmerized; her gaze fixed on the back of Max's hand. Waiting. _There._ Another star, almost invisible in daylight, transited from one side to the other.

Max squeezed. "…those…" She smiled, giggled. "Sorry. Reflections. You'll get used to them." She let go, almost shy.

Waikiki vanished. They were back home, in their kitchen. Max turned away, crouched, called out softly, "Emo."

Like it was all normal.

Chloe stammered out, " _Reflections of_ ** _what?!_** How…far? When…when the hell are you _from?_ "

Max peeked over her shoulder at Chloe, pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, shook her head once. "Not how it works, love. Not for me. Not anymore." Her eyes flirted away, back to Chloe. Again, with that enigmatic smile.

Emo skittered to Max from the bedroom, back feet sliding for purchase in the turn. Leapt into her arms.

A frenetic jumble of shapeless questions stormed Chloe's brain, but she couldn't quite manage to make any one of them whole enough to enter the world.

Max cradled Emo to her chest. Whispered, "Hey bug. We gotcha. Again." Kissed between his ears.

Emo's tail twitched, pupils dilated; he patted once-twice-climbing after a star cluster racing up and over her shoulder.

"Oww!" Max laughed.

Emo relaxed, settled back to biscuits.

Max rose up, faced Chloe. "You have questions. I promise you, _all of the answers_ \- for real. But we should go now."

Part of Chloe was already gone with Max, without question or hesitation.

But another part held back.

Was held back.

All their work. All their hopes, fears - worries shared between two timelines; _the fate of the whole entire world._ All their efforts of the past roadblocked into one objection, one _final_ question. "Tell me first - did… _do we_ ** _win_** _?"_

She met Chloe's eyes with something approaching sympathy. "…sweet baby girl." Close now, Max's irises were alive, active, burning inward; her pupils seemed to bend and pull that light into their deepest blacks.

Like they pulled Chloe.

"Home was our first visible symptom. But _one_ world was never enough to be a solution…and none of it's so simple as a 'win.'"

Chloe side-processed other physical details without conscious intervention.

"For this briefest moment, Chloe, understand that your part in _this_ story - this _here_ , this _now_ \- it's over. You can let all of it go, love; the reset is behind you. I'm holding back the collapse, but a new branch has already redirected away, continued on from the original split that created this universe. We're needed _elsewhere_ now."

Chloe noted the half-millimeter of distortion at her edges, localized just above her skin. _Lensing_.

Distracted.

 _What did she say?_

 _Replay._

Eyes wide.

Once she understood Max's words, what they confirmed…implied, Chloe flashed through stabs of panic, a rapid confusion of disconnection, loss, and uncertainty. The primitive part of her brain reached for the most obvious balm. "Will…will you be with me?"

Max nodded once, sharply. "Always. And forever." She smiled, understood. Slid her hand back into Chloe's. "I'm _never_ leaving your side again."

Chloe felt that frisson, waves, tingles that began where Max touched her, shot up her arm and down her spine.

Max pulled Chloe back from that edge. Nearly.

Chloe stammered, "So…I guess…what does that make me? Like, an extra copy? A…a…remnant or a rescue? Is that what I am now? Some kind of…castoff or... _leftover?"_

She regretted her words as they came out. Knew better than to play victim. She was in the midst of something extraordinary, leaving her ashamed for asking. For making _her_ answer. Especially _her_. _This_ Max. Whatever she was.

She couldn't take it back. Couldn't help but look away.

Max held her eyes; gravity brought Chloe's back. Loving, she chided, "Chloe. Darling. You are the _furthest_ thing from a leftover. You don't even know. You're an all too rare and precious act of creation. In most surviving main-lines, you never were. And never made it far in the exceptions." She shrugged. "I only ever survived the once. But…understand, please, I'm here for _you_. And we're going on together now. _If that's okay?"_

Something in the way she asked caught in the back of Chloe's throat. _If it's okay?!_

 _What?_

Whipsawed.

This…Max…felt so familiar, but…she was dialed up in nearly every way…was it _power_ …or was _intensity_ maybe a closer word? Neither felt right to Chloe. Neither captured her peaceful aura, her serenity. Her obvious joy.

Chloe had the overwhelming sense that even now, as much as Max apparently was, most of her catnapped, hidden below the surface. If that was even a proper description, anymore.

Her eyes darted back and forth between Max's, not fully processing. Not yet. "Okay, but, _this_ universe, this branch - you…my…other…you…just left a second ago - I _am_ supposed to end…with the rest of it, right? Like none of it ever was? You're here…but…so… _what about everyone else?!"_

Max nuzzled Emo. "That's the bigger problem. The 'not so simple' part of _winning_. Chloe, yours is meant to be an _infinite, infinitely expanding multiverse._ These realities, these branches - _they're not_ ** _ever_** _supposed to collapse._ "

Before Chloe could think or respond, Max leaned into her. "Speaking of…let's not linger. It's time. Promise, everything will make sense. Do you trust me?"

Chloe needed _way_ more time.

But for the instant, it was enough that she felt loved.

Calmed by Max's voice, the lightness in her touch.

Something else.

It helped her begin to let go of the minutes behind.

Her 'old' reality.

The horrors of weeks past.

Led her soul to find some kind of peace that _that_ , at least, was corrected.

That reality continued for most along another, better course.

Even if it was to be without her _specific_ instantiation.

 _Nothing left._

"Okay…" _Leap of faith time._ "Okay. You know I'm with you. _Forever and a day._ "

Max nodded, looked away. Too casually, "Of course, all this assumes you'll pass your Death Trials, the Knowledge Certifications, and get your final Approvals of Continuity from the Inter-dimensional Council of Chloes…"

" _Wait -_ ** _what?!_** _There's a—"_

Max struggled, held a straight face as long as she could, finally broke into bright laughter. "Hahaha! Chloe! _I'm totally fucking with you_. Hehe. You should have seen your face just now, though…"

It didn't _not_ make sense. Chloe stared, uncertain. "There isn't really a—"

" _Wow. I totally had you, didn't I?_ "

 _Oh for fuck's sake._ "Ughhh." Chloe threw up her arms, played 'exasperated.' "I'm in hell. Give me a synthetic fucking heart attack…I just met you, and I hate you already, dude."

Still giggling, "You've known me your whole entire life, Chloe. And you've _always_ loved me." Max leaned into her. Gentle. Safe. So familiar. So _beside_ ; not _above_. Even now, on such uneven ground.

Tension fled.

Chloe gave in.

She leaned her head on Max's. Finally whispered, "Guilty."

Max squeezed Chloe's hand again. Whispered back, "Come, love. Places to be. Multiverse to save. Don't know about you, but I'm _so_ over this darkness bullshit. Time to make some light. Ready?"

"Ready." _Not really!?_

"Quick stop first."

Everything was suddenly nothing.

Less than nothing.

Moments later, Max, Emo, and Chloe awoke to an overwhelming expanse of light.


	21. Another day

**Chloe** scanned their bedroom through closed lids.

Max's uneven vitals scratched out their own bright story against an otherwise subdued background.

She pressed her lips to the nape of Max's neck, leaving behind a fading, lip-shaped impression in infra-red. In whispers, "Can't sleep?"

Max, little-spoon, tensed. Stretched her legs under the sheet, painting the outlines of the room in a sudden scattering of white-noise. She rolled enough to look over her shoulder. "…sorry love…didn't mean to…I can go to one of the guest rooms. You need—"

"No, don't. It's okay." Chloe nuzzled. "If anyone should be lying here awake, it's me, not you."

Max pulled Chloe's arm over her, laced their fingers together above her heart. "You'll be great."

"Hmm? What about you? What's goin' on in there?"

Max shrugged against her. "Usual? Stupid brain won't shut off." She let out a long sigh, deflating.

Chloe didn't respond beyond a light squeeze. Understood.

Emo yawned, curled upside down in his drawer.

A distant siren intruded, faded.

After a few minutes, Chloe said, "You're still wondering how ' _you'_ you would have pwned 'em at the starting line over there." Statement, not a question.

Max shrugged. "Or done parts way different? I dunno."

Chloe replayed more than a hundred alt-timelines from that awful branch, alongside the memories and feelings of her other-selves at each turn. Every heartbreaking incident, every thought, the detail of every plan; every painful, harried personal or team decision that went into them. Time-stretched moments blurred together in parallel replay, compounding information with each rewind, iteration; cause and effect rippling between looping timelines like heavy rain across the nighttime surface of a deep lake.

 _Plans went to the second. Not much more room for finesse._

 _Barring some fancy new expression of power, anyway._

… _yeah…there's that._

She diverted her anger. Gently massaged the back of Max's head with her chin. "You already know, dude. It would have been different from the start. Your, uh, time-shift trick with the wormholes alone…swapping out the few people they couldn't save directly…it factors out a lot of the event-compression they created. She wasn't where you are yet."

Max nodded. "No, it's not even…yeah, would have changed everything over there, for sure. I know. But that's not…not what I'm stuck on."

"Spill."

Max paused, searching for the right words. "It…it was only a few weeks of divergence, right? It's…their decisions to move on…I guess? I'm having trouble with? They were close enough to us to be _us_. But more than once, they decided someone's gonna get _left behind._ That it was good enough to _move on to a new day_ \- that it's…it's okay to _not save_ certain people?" Max fidgeted. "I know it was desperate, but…how did we get there? Was that _us?"_

Something Chloe hadn't considered. Or had, but rejected in the flood of event data and memories Max brought home on the relayed cube. Memories Max didn't have.

 _Right. The gang over there only talked her through highlights._

Chloe kissed Max's shoulder, lingered. "Babe, those…lost souls? No one _ever_ gave up on them. Least of all you. You don't know, is all. On every floor, up on the walls, they kept the names and pictures of every single person they hadn't yet saved on their way to the final pass. Not in memorial - _but as a punch list._

"They triaged…gave their all to write each new day forward as close to right as they could with what they had. But they weren't ever _satisfied_. Remember, you barged into an evolutionary draft of that timeline…not the end.

"The us over there, while they were…fighting forward, they were looking for the source of the bad. Hoping for something they couldn't see. For someone in charge to take on, or some trigger-event to go back and undo. At the worst, they'd have pushed through to the other side, another month, six, whatever it took, to see how it all fit together in hindsight. So they could hopefully go back before the beginning, to stop it from ever starting. If that's what's circling your brain, you should know - there was no serious thought that anything less than getting everyone home safe was ever gonna be _okay._ "

"…hmmm?" Max shrank into herself, heart slowing.

Chloe, slowly, "They counted on the _outer_ loops to save the people they couldn't reach in the small ones. So, they made some hard calls to keep stumbling forward. And then, when you came in, that ship? That might have been a big key for them to find their way back to something normal, all on their own. We don't know. But in the end, it didn't matter, because it was _your_ way - exploring other branches, jumping back _here_ and deciding to fight through _this_ one instead - _that's_ what saved _all_ of them. Every one. _You_ made it all better. _You're_ the reason. It was _you_ that whole time, Max. _**You**_ _were the answer they couldn't see."_

Max sank further into her pillow. Quiet. Considering. Finally, sighed, "…back to our annoyingly persistent meta…always something hidden in the wider-loops."

"Uh-huh."

Max glanced over her shoulder. "I know…" Her eyes darted away, back again. Shook her head. "…a part of me knows. You know? But I dunno…I don't think we outgrow our 'what if' game? That's…my head's been perma-stuck on replay, anyway." She rotated her hip back toward Chloe.

Chloe chuckled, whispered, "It's new intel…you're on sleep-deprived autopilot, picking things apart, trying to learn from it. Cause you'll always be you. Just…don't be too hard on yourself? Any of your selves? K? You might still get a chance to show how you'd rock it solo. Especially if their b-plans go on repeat after we blaze through these bullshit media games."

"True dat." Max hugged Chloe's arm. "Eh. Or not. Won't go that way again. It can't, not now."

"No…you're right. Starting line's different again. We know who a bunch of them are now. I'm already _way_ over their bullshit - and you're _all you_ over here. Well, the most 'you' we know of so far, at least." Chloe hesitated. "Even…even if you're content to fight with both arms tied behind your back."

Max tensed again, looked over her shoulder. "What do you mean?" Sounded hurt.

Chloe changed her mind. Let it go. "Nah. Never-mind. Near-term, it doesn't matter, I guess. Like I said, you're all you, and…uh…I've…taken other precautions too." Chloe smiled in the dark.

"Oh, god. I can hear that evil smirk from here." Max's voice dropped as her body relaxed again. She snuggled back. "And of course you have. Always. You're the other half they never see coming. You know?"

Chloe closed her eyes. Whispered close, "This help at all?"

Silence. Finally, "Yeah. It helps to know they didn't give up on anyone…just…thanks." Max curled under the light covers, practically pulling Chloe over her like a crashing wave. Or maybe like an avalanche of warm. Changed the subject. "Have I told you today how much I adore you?"

Chloe let her, sighed, "Suppose it wouldn't kill me to hear it again."

"Well, I adore you this… _this_ much." Max held her hands a few inches apart.

"I assume you measure from the back of one hand, across a closed, infinite universe, all the way to the back of the other hand?"

"Duh. Because…science. And stuff."

Chloe reluctantly rolled off Max. "Seems like the right amount - but only cause I'm way adorable, dude." She scooted closer, nibbled Max's earlobe. With a breathy whisper, "In a bad-ass mad-science kinda way."

Max tucked her chin, made cute little noise in time with Chloe's nibbles.

Chloe pulled back. "God, you're helpless against me, aren't you?"

Max shrugged lightly.

Chloe chuckled, paused, intoned with mock impatience, "No matter. Scurry yourself to slumber, my dear and troubled _assistant_. I must up to an early 'morrow!"

Max giggled softly. "There's no 'tina. Heh. And… _you_ know. Thanks. Um, would you wake me up before you leave, though, love? I need to rattle some cages back East while it's still morning there, but I super-wanna listen in, too?"

"Mmph."

* * *

 **Ty** helped Ken lift the cold iron bar that final inch. "Where you at?"

Ken was flat on his back, arms supporting most of the weight above his chest. He hissed, "I'm done. _That's it._ "

Ty nodded. "Good. Do two more. Come on, Leung, don't give up on yourself so easy."

Ken scowled, groaned. Didn't move the bar backward.

"That's it. Just two. You can do it." Ty let the weight descend through Ken's tremors. Assisted enough for him to safely finish the final two reps to the limit of his muscles. Seated the bowed bar on the rack with a heavy clank.

Ken's arms flopped. "Man down." Gasping. "Gonna be here for a sec."

Ty dropped a towel on his chest with a thump. "Did good, man. That's one up from last week. Gettin' fit!"

"Fuck off, Williams. I _am_ fit. Sadist." Ken pushed up off the bench, laughing. "Thanks for the spot. What are you doin' this morning?" He shrugged. "Return the favor?"

Ty held up his hands. "Nah, it's cool. Cardio day. 120."

Ken winced. "I can never do that long inside. Text me if you need an extra magazine or something. Least I can do - which is, you know, why I'll do it."

"Always the White Knight."

"Asian, thank you very much." Ken smiled, not otherwise moving.

"It's good to seek balance in your routine, though." Ty grinned, waved backward as he threw his towel over his shoulder, walked away.

Flipped his hood up. Head down, he put his earbuds in and made his way to the front row of treadmills on the other end of the floor.

 _0400._

Inside, it was cool, well-lit. A mix of advanced tech and human-friendly surfaces. Outside, the scattered lights of suburbia twinkled, edged into darkness at the foot of the distant mountains. The half-empty office gym was more home away from home than it should have been.

Morning meditations.

'Habit' wasn't the right word, but something disguised as unconscious preference placed him where he could see everything in the gym behind him reflected in the ballistic skin of the building. His earbud cable freely tucked into an empty pocket, unconnected, subtly enforcing his personal bubble. Like most of his comrades, he wasn't comfortable isolating his senses.

He stepped on the belt. It gave under him with a springy push as the machine came to life, anticipating his routine. He could almost hear the equipment chattering back and forth with the army of bots inside him, regulating, deciding among themselves how much and how fast. Wasn't like the old days. Wasn't a bad thing. Sore muscles lasting more than an hour were a relic. He shook his head, slotted his bottle into the holder, set off at a brisk walk to warm himself up.

He picked up the pace, trying to outrace his growing unease.

Twenty minutes in, he felt her wake. He was getting better at that part.

 _Hey._

He didn't ask how her head felt. He shared a muted version through her link. Distant clanging spikes beat their way through heavy blankets of heat and pressure. Less than the night before, though.

She didn't need to ask him what was wrong. It was plain to see, at the front of everyone's minds. She reassured instead. _I'm okay. It wasn't here. It wasn't me._

Soothing.

No more words.

It was different between them when they were alone. Open. Unmediated by the symbolic acoustics of language.

Two minds traveling together, freely intermingling. One racing, one half-asleep.

Both hurting in different ways.

But each helping restore the other.

* * *

 **Emily** jolted awake to Mira's snores. Took her a minute to catch up to her surroundings, calm her heart. She wasn't used to sharing a room, which was itself a fuzzy reminder that everything was probably okay. For the moment.

She and Mira shared the small bed, while Jason owned the floor. Dark, wood-paneled room. Faint scent of packaged sandwiches and cedar. Sunrise leaked through thin gaps in the blinds, throwing striped patterns across the double-latched front door.

They tried to skirt the small highway-town entirely the night before. But Jason noticed it through the trees - the flickering room light. Same pattern as the electronic locks, the cameras. Same sequence as the lights on the drone that chased him to the edge of the forest before it stopped and shot straight up - only to blast down and shatter into a billion plastic pieces.

Someone watched over them.

Even so, they couldn't be too careful.

Mira had ordered them to stay put while she went up to investigate the room. Snuck up the steel and concrete steps to the second floor of the motel. Neared the door. The blinking stopped as she listened from outside. Eventually worked up the courage to try the handle. Unlocked. She vanished inside for what seemed like hours. When she returned, she motioned them up from the underbrush. The room was empty. Waiting.

Out of the cold.

Into hot showers.

And down the catwalk from their room, vending machine snacks and cold drinks that magically dropped as they approached.

 _Freakin' weird, that._

Not entirely trusting the situation, but too exhausted to continue trekking blindly through the freezing woods, they agreed to hunker down for the night. Decide what to do the next morning.

Em closed her eyes.

Jason's breathing was out of time with Mira's snores, only coalescing into an illusory rhythm every thirty seconds or so.

She rolled away.

Safe.

Not entirely trusting.

But like the others, thoroughly exhausted from their escape.

* * *

 **Max** couldn't force sleep.

Chloe helped earlier, but in the end, Max's thoughts only pivoted to other concerns. Her recent open-loop issue with the emitter, if that's what it was? When and how to break the ice with Chloe about topics Max had gone to great pains to shield her from, to her detriment. The stranger in their room, who may or may not have been a dream, but…never-mind current media silliness or the existential unknowns of deep time or…all the rest.

She wasn't nervous about morning, though; Chloe was perfect for the job, and that all made sense.

Couldn't still her inner mental racquetball matches, was all.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Rise.

Fall.

Symbolic issues. Who was she? How much of herself, of who she'd become, did she have any control over in the end? Was that okay?

 _Time I spent remembering and sharing our vision._

 _Time I spent by myself in some vast hole in space._

 _Time I spent outside with ordinary people, all around the world._

Those moments were all that stood between one and the other. Versions of herself. Realities for everyone else. It left her fidgety, anxious to get outside. As if repeating the same recipe over again would somehow force more distance between this branch and the last. Between her and an angrier version of herself. Or maybe somehow prevent the next disastrous fork.

Too many competing thoughts. _Let it all go. For now._

She tossed and turned again, carefully, to minimize disruption.

Chloe presented the illusion of deep sleep, but Max knew that wasn't entirely a thing. Not like she was contained or constrained by the boundaries of purely organic biology, or even her own head anymore.

No doubt, some part of Chloe casually wandered the surveillance shells covering a dozen cities…or sensed glimmers of spaces between, carried along on growing streamers of atmospheric smart-dust. While another part of her, perhaps sectioned off in a synthetic body, monitored the ongoing multidimensional recalibration of The Device in a lab below. Yet another, probably hanging out in some virtual world in the Core, perfecting her full-scale recreation of Aincrad or Academy City, or whatever she was doing for fun while running other simulations, or…who knew where else she might be. Like Max, Chloe's experience of time was selective and variable. But even when divided, she was always a hundred-percent present with Max. It was hard to complain.

This Chloe was much farther along her evolutionary path than OtherChloe had been near the…well, near when they parted. Made sense. The tech transfer was from the equivalent of 90k years into another future. At least.

 _Her head-start grows in so many weird ways. Still catching up in others. She'll have all the time I can give her._ Max stifled a yawn. _I'm so flippin' proud of how fast she's adapted, though. Even if she'd be rolling her eyes to hear me go on about it._

Max forced her eyes closed, tried to drift, but darkness wouldn't give way to dreams. _Ehn. Eh…meh. Nearly time to get up anyway._

She gave up, reluctantly slid her phone from the nightstand. Second time since they went to bed. Screen was dim, tinted to nighttime hues.

 **New messages.**

 _That was fast. Doesn't anyone sleep? Right. Forwarded samples, roundy planet._

Recent news streams continued to light fires, bringing fans and detractors out of the woodwork. Some felt compelled to yell. Others, to stop yelling at each other long enough to shout in the direction of MCCP. Some small number of those snuck through in the form of notes. Some of those found their way to Max.

She scrolled through new ones.

Tapped.

—

 _Hi everyone._

 _I couldn't find your Insta? Trying this instead. I can only imagine how low things must feel for you guys right now. It probably doesn't matter, but_ _ **I**_ _still believe in you. They can shout a million lies, and I don't care. My heart knows you guys are the real deal. And my head knows how bad we need you. Or at least someone like you._

 _Don't let us down out here. Okay?_

 _-Tran_

—

 _Aw._

Emo climbed the bed on the other side of Chloe. Going in for tactical snuggles.

Max reread the last, hesitated, tapped away.

The preview of the following message gave her more than she needed to know about it.

—

 _YOU SHOULD JUST DIE! FALSE PROFIT! RADIOATION CHILD KILLERS! DIE DIE DIE! I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE!_

 _-ANONYMOS STRANGER_

—

Skipped forward. Rolled her eyes. _Ugh. Spellcheck. Learn about it. And…email filterrrs- don't leeave meee? Pleease?_

She wondered briefly if the unread message could be from the lone, sign-wielding protester occupying the sidewalk across the street from their main campus entrance. _'Free Alena,'_ it said. _That might be a problem if it catches on._

 _Ugh._

On to another message.

—

 _We got your back, fam. Fuck the haters. Fuck this whole goddamn broke-ass system. Fuck em up!_

 _GG_

—

She tapped back to the list, scrolled.

Skimmed through the next few. Similarly mixed bag.

 _I did say I wanted to see a representative sampling…_

—

 _I believe in you._

 _~ Ash._

—

—

… _disgraceful scam artists. No different from the rest. You promise hope and take it away. Cruel, selfish trash…_

—

—

 _If saving our world is your religion, show us the way._

 _#ImWithMCCP_

—

"Hashtag email?"

The most recent address caught her eye. A white-listed flag. From—

 _Aw._

 _Kate? Why are you up so late?! Or is it early for you?_

Her fingers leapt across the small screen.

—

 _Dearest Max,_

 _I've been a neglectful friend. I'm truly sorry I haven't written you in a while. When our noses are down in our daily work, we can sometimes forget to look up. That's no excuse, but I hope you know that you're always in my thoughts and prayers. Especially now._

 _It's not fair of anyone to say these terrible things. Not when you've worked so hard and put so much of yourselves into acting for others._

 _Sometimes, we might strain under the weight of temporary darkness, get lost in the feeling that the struggle will never pass. It's essential that we keep faith in whatever we might believe - in whoever's plan, or in whatever voice or destination guides us. In the friends and family around us who help us carry so much more than we ever could on our own._

 _I know you won't take the negatives to heart. I'm very thankful that you're surrounded by good people. Please, please, please remember to make some extra time for_ _ **you**_ _with all this craziness going on. Okay?_

 _A wise friend once told me that we have to make time to refuel ourselves if we're to remain a bright light for others. :-)_

 _Call if you'd like to talk._

 _I'm_ _always_ _here for you._

 _With much love and kindness,_

 _-Kate_

 _PS: Patrick (new baby rescue-bun) says hello! I'll text you a new pic in the morning. He's got the floppiest, most adorable-est little ears. You_ _will_ _behold and embrace the power of 'awww!'_

 _There is no escape!_

 _-km_

—

Max wrinkled her nose, not unlike a bunny. Smiled.

 _You're like the perfect antidote to everything._

 _This world doesn't deserve you, Kate._

She tapped out her only reply of the night. "Yes, please. All of that thing you just said. Call you tomorrow?"

* * *

 **Juliet** knelt in deep snow. Thin wisps of pink steam spiraled from the rapidly icing pools of crimson on all sides. Pools that more appropriately belonged inside people.

Her heart thumped out of her chest. Suddenly awake. Upright. The image, the bright nightmare, was gone. Replaced by a dim softness.

She wrapped her arms around herself. Shaking. Not the first time.

At least it wasn't his eyes this time; the attacker who fell next to her. That too-frequent dream loop. The way they went from wide-open blue, united in terrified regret, to…independent, unfocused, so quickly as…whatever holds a person alive left him.

He couldn't have been much older than she was.

 _Than Zach would have been._

 _No._

Why did she think that? Why now?

 _Why?_

 _Why?_

Was it normal to conflate the two of them? After all this time? Was it the only natural place for her mind to go? The only events in her life with that sort of end?

After all this time, she was the one left alive. Again.

Still in the dark, without any closure. Again.

Her instinct to whisper 'I miss you,' faltered, failed. It felt tired. Nothing would change. Zach wasn't alive to hear. And in present circumstances, indulging in that sadness wasn't a comfort. She didn't know what her future held. Or if it even mattered.

She let herself fall back. The exposed skin of her shoulders cooling. Pulled up the covers. Underwear, a t-shirt. Otherwise, bare skin. She remembered where she was.

Angry at herself for feeling this way. For moping instead of…well…what else was left to her?

Early light outside the house.

She calmed herself. Sought distraction in the moment. Shivering. Not only from cold. Had to pee but wasn't quite ready to brave the raw air between her and the bathroom. Or go for the heater switch on the far wall. Still bleary-eyed from lack of sleep the night before, she reached for the borrowed phone. Scrolled around, re-read parts of her middle-of-the-night texts with Ian.

Maybe to take her mind somewhere else as she tried to reclaim warmth.

Maybe to make sure they weren't also part of a dream.

 _JW: I never properly thanked you or your group for helping me._

 _Ian: It's late where you are. This isn't necessary._

 _JW: Thank you, anyway. Will u tell the others?_

 _Ian: They know._

A timestamp gap of hours. Another post-nightmare distraction-question.

 _JW: Why do you do it?_

A gap of minutes.

 _Ian: I shared with you the answer before. You ask again and again._

 _JW: Tell me again?_

 _Ian: You must seek sleep._

 _Ian: Are you feeling well?_

 _Ian: You've been lonely._

 _JW: You're avoiding my question._

 _Ian: As are you._

 _JW: Why? Tell me._

Another gap.

 _Ian: Maybe you're important to the future? ;)_

Gap.

 _JW: How could I be? I don't know what you mean by that?_

 _Ian: Sorry. Old Chan joke._

 _JW: Just tell me. Please?_

A gap of a few minutes. She remembered the dots blinking on for a while. Wondered if he fell asleep himself.

 _Ian: Okie. There are versions, but they go this way - a happy little girl in Tokyo breaks away from her mother, runs into busy intersection. A lorry races toward her, certain to strike her dead. In the last possible moment, an ordinary man in a long coat rushes to the girl and throws her to the safety of the sidewalk. Before the girl's mother can react, the man whispers into his watch, 'target secure.' He then smiles, telling her 'Your child is important to the future,' before disappearing forever into the dense street crowd._

 _Ian: It became something of an urban legend online many years ago. Which spawned copycat stories of people who similarly helped others, remembered the story and whispered into their watches in jest afterward, perpetuating the myths._

 _Ian: Maybe it is similar. A laugh instead, when obvious answers to 'why' won't satisfy?_

 _JW: I'm sorry I'm not clear. I meant tell me why YOU do it? You're all hackers or something, right? You have all these crazy skills, but why use them like this? Why use them to help me? How do you have access to this house? Whose cat is this? How did you even find me?_

 _JW: You said you guys have helped other people too - what's behind it?_

 _JW: Why? What's your reason to spend your time this way? For you personally, I mean?_

 _JW: I'm grateful - but I don't understand what drives you to help strangers like this? This isn't normal._

A gap of minutes.

 _Ian: The most direct answer that might make sense._

 _Ian: I hope to one day save my father._

That trail ended there. He wouldn't speak further on it.

She scrolled but rebounded from the bottom. That weird part of her that loved finishing puzzles in one sitting sat frustrated in a silent house on a snowy island, a world away from the millions of people chasing dreams into morning beyond the banks of flowing, icy waters.

She struggled to motivate herself out from under her covers.

* * *

 **Ty** glanced at his watch. A little after 4:30 am.

Less than 30-minutes 'til Chloe was set to go live with their first return volley of Jillian's counter-strategy.

Not his area, so he didn't get a lot of what they were doing. Hoped it worked out. He kept to his quick run. Glancing every so often at the crawl on the TV ahead. World events, other headline news, a missing businessman, the occasional unflattering barb aimed their way.

Sophie dozed off a few minutes before. Asked him to nudge her when it was time. He preferred to let her rest if it were up to him. She was finally coming out of her cluster cycle. Better if she found relief from the last of it in sleep.

Behind him, a trio of young women traipsed in, invaded the ellipticals one row back.

He wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but they were close, and it was hard not to hear. Sounded like they were waiting for Chloe to come on too. Probably wasn't an isolated thing.

Two were visible on either side of his reflection. Each of them with blonde hair, pulled back. The one out of sight, directly behind him, had short black hair. He'd seen them around.

The one on the left said to the others, "…this is _one_ way to push through an all-nighter." She laughed, started her machine up. "Ugh."

"It works, Jen. Trust me," the one out of view said. "20 minutes is all it takes."

Ty chuckled to himself. _That's not how it works._ He'd seen too many torn ACLs and other accidents caused by careless amateurs pushing through fatigue. Didn't want to butt in, but he'd keep an eye.

He managed a couple hours of rack-time after helping John the night before. They'd split the administrative mechanics of rolling out a massive new surveillance effort with team leads around the globe, based on the dizzying intel dump from Max's bad trip. He still hadn't fully wrapped his head around it.

Behind him, the woman they'd called 'Jen' asked quietly, "Coaching moment? What happened last night? Why'd you freeze?"

The pale woman opposite stammered, "Who? Me? When?"

"Earth to Amy? Morning? During Q&A drills? Jillian passed you the mic and you straight-up blanked with the big boss?"

"Yeah. I don't know? I didn't expect it to get all the way around to me?" Amy took a drink from her water bottle. "Besides, it's not like she needs practice or anything. She's already better at this than even you guys." She splashed on herself as she pulled the bottle away. Shrugged at the mess, tired.

The woman directly behind him laughed. "Not wrong. And yeah, okay, Aim. I still call bullshit."

Amy again. "Whatever, Steph. Who in their right mind brings in _burritos_ for a late-night work-session? That's wrong on so many levels!"

Steph laughed, "You're gonna blame my midnight burritos for your deer-in-headlights stage-coma? Man. Uh - is it wrong I want a breakfast burrito right now? Anyone else?"

"Kinda? I mean, that I want one, and also that it's probably wrong." Jen again. "Aim's not lying though - she is _way_ too scary-fast on the uptake. Tell me it doesn't weird you guys out?"

"What? That she's _Chloe?"_ Steph asked. "Come on. I only _wish_ I could be half that fierce one day."

Nods. All three chuckled again.

"Fair point. Her and Max, both."

"OTP4lyfe."

Giggles.

Ty checked the time. Glanced at the news-crawler. Same pastel newsroom. Same pasted smiles. Same four item loop at the bottom.

Jen paused, continued nervously, "Didn't mention this before, but I, uh, bumped into her in the hallway, before we started last night. Chloe, I mean. She was standing outside the door, doing her glowy-eye thing. Caught me staring at her like an idiot from like three feet away."

"Ouch." Amy struggled, lowered her incline angle. "You know she can still see when she does that."

"Thanks. I figured that out. But…she uh…it wasn't like that. She was cool about it and everything. When I asked, she said she was getting ready for us…studying everything she could about interviews and…well…I don't know, now - do you…" Jen shook her head. "…do you think she meant everything that _exists?!"_

Steph's voice. "There's a reason their initials are on all the buildings, guys. We could do a lot worse on the boss-spectrum. Especially with…you know…everything…else…"

They quieted for a few minutes.

Big Picture, always looming.

Fewer answers.

Steph finally asked, "And on that tragic note…did you guys…look? Look yourselves up, or…?"

Amy faltered. Slowed her pace. "I couldn't. Not...not after seeing Jen's face." Looked at Jen. "Sorry…"

Steph,"…"

Jen stopped. Switched her gaze between Amy and Steph. "I peeked yesterday afternoon when it all went up. Wish I hadn't. Wish…I don't know."

"What'd you see? Or do you not—"

Eyes down. "I know it's not 'real' real? But…" Eyes up, angry. "I guess there were these same two guys - and…uh… _they killed my parents forty-three fucking times_. Across all the different times or…whatever. Like - seriously?! We work in _fucking PR_ …like…why go after _them?!_ You know? I'm a nobody, and they don't have _anything_ to do with us. Doesn't make any sense. How did they even know who—"

"…shit. Sorry."

"Thanks, I guess. Me too. Easier if it was just some vague…I don't know. They made the news a bunch of times. Local broadcast assholes interviewed my grandparents back in Iowa over and over. And…it just tore out my heart to see them so broken up like that. I could only watch a few versions, but…you could see it…it was _so real_ for them. You know? Like, these fuckin' guys, they killed _my parents_ , right? You think knowing that would be enough…but it was watching…seeing my grandpa devastated - that was the worst part. I'm so like… _fuck these people_ , you know? _Fuck_ second chances! Max should wish 'em all away. Be _done with this once and for all_." Jen started back up, her stride rougher, jerkier than when she began. Shook her head, cheeks red, brows knitted together in anger.

"…sorry Jen."

They continued in silence for another five minutes.

Ty couldn't feel anything but sympathy. He'd had his brief moral-compass-check after learning some of the details of what happened on repeat in that sideways branch. Imagined there'd be a whole lot more of that going around.

Breathing harder, Amy broke the silence. "Are you guys thinking about doing the whole thing? The bot post we drafted up for the intranet, for medical?"

Nano-tech. Standard issue for field ops. Ty'd had his for years now. But as of the all-staff message that went out late last night, they were available for anyone inside who wanted them.

 _Not the worst idea to go wide. It would have saved a lot of our people in those early passes over there._

He left the thought to fade.

Kept running.

Steph was mid-sentence. "—I looked, at it. I think they're just the medtechs, not the enhancement ones, right? I'm gonna go in and do it later either way. Just one shot. Why not? Good insurance. Or like having a little doctor running around inside you. Ops peeps seem okay with them."

Amy laughed. "Ha. I might hold out for enhancements." Coughed.

"Same goop, different program." Steph again.

Jen smirked. "But those aren't for everyone yet…I'm not sure Chloe wants that kind of competition."

"No, they're not even close to what she has, or…is, I don't think. Besides, Fiona heard from Jillian, said it was Chloe's call to open it up this far…and don't you _dare_ let Chloe hear you say that, by the way!"

"She's probably listening to you right now—"

"…dammit. If you're listening, I'm only kidding! We love you, Chloe! Promise!"

Uncertain laughter, glances toward the small light-field panels in the corners.

Ty raced on.

The scene behind him, those conversations, had to be playing out in a thousand ways as more ordinary staffers around the world skimmed the looping records, discovered what versions of a nearby fate looked like for them or their loved ones. Talked among themselves. Or pondered in solitude.

Sobering.

Plans were formalized.

Decisions made.

Actions carried out.

Friends, families, co-workers, and everyday people died in precise ways.

Again, and again…

The dangers weren't as strictly theoretical as they'd been a day before.

That reality was one choice away.

But the consequences were open for everyone inside to see now.

Couldn't help but change things for people.

 _No reason it couldn't happen—_

Caught himself.

* * *

 **Ian** watched over all of them.

He was concerned for Juliet. It wasn't her time yet. According to the plan he'd developed with the others, he had to keep her sequestered in place for another 11 days. If that plan was to remain salvageable. In her current state of restless agitation, the isolation of the beta site, he'd be lucky to keep her half that time without disruptive intervention.

It was entirely his fault - the ones hired to relocate her missed a light. Because he became distracted, missed changing a light for them. They were to have calmly escorted her off the street to a modern, comfortable, safe house, minutes before the others would have arrived. Stayed with her and protected her. But they didn't get to her until _after_ her attackers intercepted. He bore responsibility for the deaths that occurred, and the trauma Juliet continued to experience as a result.

It was too late to change - objects in motion - it had to be her. He _needed_ Juliet now, but with their necessarily limited interactions, he was uncertain how to help her. Or how to get her back to a place where he could begin to convince her to voluntarily risk her life again. They'd have only a tiny window of opportunity. But at this rate…

Price, he watched always, warily, from a distance. Didn't dare go nearer. Even odds she'd sense him, and that would risk everything.

Caulfield…he was least worried about her, even though he'd lose Juliet without her direct and unreserved cooperation when the time came. He'd have only the barest moments with her. But out of all of them, she was a known, predictable element.

There were other moving parts. Unrelated, opportunistic. The three child-escapees; secure for the moment. He needed to get them to a safe-haven without enemy detection that might inflict on them a similar trauma. Their losses would be terrible but shouldn't ultimately affect the plan.

Then there was the bulk of The Collective's activities. Erasures. Sanitization. Interference here and there.

The bystanders he'd kept from becoming collateral damage.

His outside partners in crime.

Their involvement completed.

He thought for a moment.

Missed the obvious.

Discovered it.

Of course.

It was there all along.

* * *

 **Chloe** blinked again under the hot lights. Dust motes danced above her skin, bright, out of focus.

The studio's makeup artist interpreted her flutter as impatience. "Almost done." She'd insisted on applying a base to keep the shine off.

Not like Chloe couldn't control surface reflectivity on her own, but she played along without fidgeting too much. _Act normal._

If there was one litany they repeated throughout her broadcast prep the night before, that was it. _Act normal. Thanks for the confidence booster, jerks. Normal for who?_

She smiled to herself.

She was the one who asked for help. The plan. The coaching. Maybe it was a sign of maturity or something that she recognized her nervousness. Limits. She could pull it all apart, knew all the right moves. Everything there was to know about the processes. In theory.

But in mere moments, it would be her sitting there live, directly in front of the camera, alone, watched by millions of people. Nothing in OtherChloe's digital closet of knowledgeable goodness was geared for that. It was outside her experience in the other timeline. No practical help.

 _Ah well._ If nothing else, Chloe appreciated the opportunity to indulge that feeling. A pointed reminder of how close she remained to her old self. A reassurance that despite all her changes, modifications or otherwise, she was a _person_ inside.

 _Still me._

Two camera operators ran through final uplink checks with the remote network hub in NYC.

 _Back from vacation less than a day, and I'm already on national TV. Womp, womp. Five-years-ago-me would have lost her shit if she had any idea what this future looked like._

Her eyes danced away from the cameras.

She masked the vestiges of her inner nervousness by casually monitoring their behind-the-scenes conversations, AV feeds, and general goings-on. _No obvious red flags. Check._

Waiting.

Soon.

… _waiting…_

The second-hand on the wall clock snapped forward in ultra-slow motion. That smooth flow kept going, on its way to the next second-marker. Barely registering as movement at all. A sign that her perception accelerated again. Or rather, she wasn't holding it back quite as far as real-time.

 _Shit._

She decelerated.

The second hand frittered around the face at regular speed again.

 _FFS. Nothing like making extra time while you're busy waiting._

 _To be fair, I volunteered._

' _Leave it to me, Max.'_

That's what she'd said. Borrowed code between them from another life. Shorthand that settled responsibilities before they could rise to questions.

It made the most sense. Max would have been fine, but with multiple close-up cameras, there was a chance, however small, that mid-interview rewind displacements might get caught. Last thing they needed was the further distraction of a wave of amateur frame-by-frame video analysts on YouTube, dissecting visuals while pandering to the wacky fringes. Inevitably escalating awareness of any weird up into the mainstream. Would complicate an already complicated situation.

Max could have jumped back into herself each time instead of rewinding, kept it all square in her head. But it was unnecessary work when she wasn't the only person who could stand up for MCCP.

' _Break a leg, Chlo…' Famous last words_

 _Do I still have bones?_

She squinted. Wasn't a question she had an absolute answer for.

Chloe was polling higher with the public than Max for the moment, but Jillian had the good sense not to add that bullet to her team's case for Chloe the night before. In her favor, Chloe _also_ had millisecond-access to the bulk of the world's knowledge, possibly the most advanced - or at least the most extensible - mind on the planet, and ostensibly, total control of her internal passage of time. They led with that trinity.

Not like there was any dissent to overcome.

 _Leave it to me, Max._

 _\- K._

"There. You're good." The makeup artist closed her case with a crisp snap of the clasp, spared a last glance at her work before scampering off. _Erin._ Chloe paged through a mental screen of some of Erin's after-hours zombie makeup work online. Friends all pale and splashed in red like fun chewy death. _She looks happier in those pictures._

"Would you like a water or anything?" The local morning producer interrupted, hovered. Her eyes were bleak, headset akimbo, and her clipboard, clutched to her chest, had seen better days.

"No, but thank you for asking. I'll be fine." Chloe smiled more warmly than was strictly accurate or necessary.

It was earlier than they were used to being at work. They wouldn't see daylight for another two hours.

Chloe adjusted the earpiece they'd provided, which would soon link her to her remote interviewers. Her live connection to Jillian and everyone back at HQ would be virtual, if more simultaneous than the quarter-second delay from NY, or the seven-second delay to air.

 _Almost time._

The first of three remote interviews. Each conducted from a local network affiliate, fed to national, then back out. Morning shows. Widest reach and least-likely to be openly hostile or confrontational. That was Jillian's call. Couldn't be too prepared though, given how divorced Max's initial story was from reality.

Chloe expected things to go off the rails by the second interview, despite Jillian's confidence that they'd make it to the third unscathed. Jillian trusted in her relationships. Chloe trusted that once she spiked the ball during the first morning show, the more decisive elements of _Them_ behind this particular media push would do their best to influence or interfere through the shows that followed. _Nuke that bridge when we come to it._

Was all a question of reaction times.

At least they wouldn't be able to pull any nonsense with the uncut broadcast video, which is why Jilli insisted on 'live' for this brief opening salvo. Quotes could still be assembled and recut out-of-context later by others, but the broadcast interviews would stand on their own as the authoritative, and very public, record of what Chloe actually said.

Jillian was confident the internet crowd would link back and auto-moderate any resulting counter-spin attempts.

 _And create plenty of their own noise if we can successfully shift the narrative to something more productive._ 'Replace it with what?' had been Jillian's leading question, but she was already standing by with the recording of Max's interview with Juliet - fired off a clip, which pointed them a direction. An inadvertent slip Max had made, sitting there unused.

Downside of sidelining Max for this, Chloe wouldn't be able to take anything back on her own if she messed up. Not without an appeal to Max for a cube-assisted restart. After all the prep the night before and her other advantages, she didn't think it would come to that, though

While Max could run every branch permutation physically, Chloe computationally simulated far more, far faster, updating her paths in real-time. Different methods applied to the same end.

Chloe would do her best, and if it got out of control, they could cut the timeline after the first interview. She dropped her shoulders, pulled them back, sat up straight. Tried to force out the last of her jitters.

Max, meanwhile, would be freed up to chase leads in her way.

Like Patricia Tanner, Juliet's editor at the Journal, and probable rubber-stamp on the opening MCCP hit-piece that triggered the rolling waves of bullshit that followed.

* * *

 **Max** stepped from her closet into the freezing morning air a mile above the city of Rye, in Westchester County, north of Manhattan.

She tapped her earpiece while her breath sculpted mini-cloud shapes. "Morning, gang. Is she back at the house yet?"

Air bit at her cheeks.

A sparse crackle. "Welcome to New York airspace…and yes, ma'am." A spare team out of the NYC office ran point on the ground for her. This was her second stop of the morning. She briefly soloed Wallace first thing, then erased all contact in a jump back for warmer clothes.

The voice continued, "She returned home from her daughter's parent-teacher conference 10-minutes ago."

Max dropped into freefall. "I don't want us to be disturbed."

Static popped. "You're clear. Her Uber to the city is sidelined a few miles away with electrical troubles. Cell towers in the area are also experiencing 'technical difficulties' for the next 32 minutes."

"I can hear your air quotes." She smiled. Their invisible hands were nothing if not thorough.

A light chuckle on the distant end before the speaker clicked offline.

Max redirected her attention below. Bare, sleeping branches raced toward her.

 _Bout time we chatted directly, yes?_

She slowed her fall, touched lightly to the street with one foot, then the next. Crunchy, with a hint of slip. She set down just off the private multi-acre property. No traffic to speak of and no witnesses to her descent. Only the dense, snowy overgrowth hiding expensive homes and other structures from public view. She made her way past the open gate, up the long brick drive, past the turnaround, and finally, up the front steps of the traditional stone and wood colonial mansion. It towered three floors above.

 _These columns are beautiful._

Warm yellow light rippled and shone through hand-blown glass panes inset in the wooden double-doors.

She rang the bell.

Movement.

A door opened with a whoosh, like breaking a seal, as a hurried woman in her 50's pushed past. She was dressed for a professional office downtown, not the snowy outdoors. She secured the back of a pale pearl earring, probably selected at the last moment to match her silk blouse. Quick change. A bag and jacket shared rumpled space under her other arm. Impatient, she glanced, barked, "I left the gate opened for you."

Max replied, "I didn't bring a car. Actually…never mind. You're Patricia Tanner?"

The woman realized she'd made a mistake, broke eye contact, reached for her phone as she backed through her door. "Yes, but I'm not interested. Thank you."

Max, sweetly, "This will only take a moment."

Tanner hesitated. "I'm sorry - I don't know you, and I'm obviously in a hurry. Thank you. Good morning." Arms full, she turned away, hair twirling around her head like a spun skirt. She dragged her fingertips across her app while leaning the front door closed behind her.

The door stopped, leaving a few open inches. Through the crack, Max said, "It sounded like you were waiting for a driver? Surely you have a _few_ minutes for me?" Her foot was over the threshold, blocking further closure. _Boots were the right call._

Tanner, visibly annoyed, "How — never mind - I'm sorry, I told you I'm not interested." She tossed her bag on a table behind her, returned, opened the door enough to allow Max's foot to escape.

"May I come in?" Max moved her foot.

"I can't imagine why I would want that. _Good day._ " Dismissive, Tanner spun the door closed in Max's face.

Max popped in behind her.

Tanner turned, surprised, confronted her. "Excuse me?! Get the hell out of my house! Who do you think you are?" She stopped short of walking into Max but brushed by her to open the door again, pointing Max toward the wintry morning snow.

"You have a lovely foyer." Max spun casually in place, taking it in, leaving behind soft echoes of her footfalls. "It's round, like a castle turret. Cute." The white marble, the drop chandelier. The delicate stairs gliding along the perimeter curve to the next level. The elegant, if cartoonishly oversized, furniture. "Oh, sorry, I'm Max Caulfield. I want—"

"Miss Caulfield." Tanner interrupted, stiffened, eyes narrowing. Her terse projection of self-control remained intact, however. "You should know better than to come here. Our two organizations are in active litigation, and it wouldn't be seemly for us to—"

Max shrugged. "I'm gonna assume you know the stories you printed about us are crap. We can move right past that." She hand-waved casually away as she ambled further from the door, looking at everything but Tanner. "I don't care about the litigation. Both of us have people. It's not why I'm here. I'm curious about a few things - I was hoping you could help me clear them up?"

Patricia shivered as a breeze blew in, but she didn't move to close the door behind her. Measuring her words, she said slowly, "I understand that you might be upset with our recent investigative series. All the more reason it's highly improper for you to be here. _You need to leave. Now!_ "

Max held her ground. Absently peeled off one mitten, then the next. Folded them into her coat pocket. Sauntered, examined an old oil painting of a three-masted ship fighting rough seas. The ornate, gilded frame was probably many times more expensive than the art it contained.

Tanner filled the blooming silence. "I'm certain it was an uncomfortable examination for you. That's unavoidable; we raised questions that you'd prefer unasked. I'm not unsympathetic to the dog-pile effect that followed. But all our stories are sourced, vetted, and factually verified by a diverse staff of professionals before going to print. We stand behind our journalists and their notes, and there's nothing that can be done to further influence that." Rambling, as if uncertain how to proceed, "They're professionals following longstanding journalistic standards, procedures and—"

Max leaned her butt against an ornate side-table. An antique cup and saucer clinked. She crossed ankles and arms. Chuckled. "You can stop. It's okay. I'm not recording this." It wasn't _technically_ a lie. All she had on her was an open mic. "…we're just two people, having an uncomfortably awkward conversation in a tastefully decorated foyer."

"You misunderstand. _We're not having a conversation, Miss Caulfield._ You've crossed a very bold line by coming here. I am asking you one final time to please leave - my next request will be of our local police - who are very responsive to the members of this community. And not very patient, I might add. I don't think either of us wants your mugshot to be our next national lede." Tanner crossed her arms in a defiant display of 'I'd be okay with that.'

"Lines crossed…heh…yeah - lines…bylines…those stories were lies." Max pulled herself up onto the table, feet dangling. "Your strict adherence to journalistic standards is bullshit, and I guarantee the bylines were too. So, cut the act, Tanner. We both know better. I'm here to follow the strings. Give me a string, I follow it away."

Shaking her head, "Have it your way. I've been more than patient with this trespass." Patricia dialed, held the phone to her ear. Pulled it away. Tapped again. Squinted.

A voice scratched in Max's ear, "Chloe's going on in one. Thought you might like to know, ma'am."

Max turned her head, replied quietly, "Thanks." She'd long ago abandoned her fruitless crusade against that particular honorific. Too many with prior service working in ops for that to have any lasting effect.

Patricia pocketed her phone. Examined Max more closely.

Her earpiece must have peeked over the edge of her lobe.

"It's tiny. That's military-grade communications gear? Between that and my…sudden and mysterious lack of signal - it appears those stories about you weren't entirely creative writing, were they?" She held Max's gaze, oddly confident.

 _Interesting. She's hiding behind annoyance, and all but admitted it's a hatchet job. But it doesn't look like she's well-informed enough to be properly afraid._

"A few facts were true. Even if your analysis and conclusions were way off."

 _Another tool. Ah well. Had to check._

Chloe's synth-voice intruded rudely over comms. "You just got _so_ _busted, dude!_ "

Max fought the urge to shush her. Instead, she hopped off the table, headed for the rightmost hallway leading out of the foyer. "Do you have a television? Of course, you do." Max kept going.

Incredulous, torn between following her invader further into her house or closing out the cold behind her, she stammered, "I-I'm sorry, but I insist; you really _must—_ " Tanner's voice diminished behind well-insulated walls. She was someone used to being listened to.

Sitting room had a flatscreen. Max flopped into an uncomfortably decorative chair, kicked up her boots on the low table, pointed the remote. Called out, "Your driver isn't coming. We have time."

Max whispered for Chloe since part of her seemed to be listening in. "You were right - she has no idea what the hell to do with me. Heh."

"We need to discuss your rediscovered enthusiasm for criminal activity," Chloe chuckled.

"I didn't break anything on the way in. And I promise never to outshine you on that score, dear. Anyway, don't you have an interview or something?" Max flipped channels.

Chloe teased, "Blah blah… I can talk and talk at the same time."

Max chuckled, enjoying the light ChloeBanter. Maybe she was punchy from lack of sleep. Or accepted the lifted weight of a grim timeline effectively dodged. Or perhaps, in spite of current circumstances, she was buoyed by the feeling of recaptured momentum that came with their new weight of hard intel. Whatever the cause, Max also found herself enjoying the imbalance of her current exchange with Tanner.

Patricia entered, glowering over Max. As a last desperate attempt at threat, blurted, "I have dogs."

Max smiled. "What are their names?"

Tanner, flustered, "I don't— Oh." Her eye caught the screen. Resigned, she dropped, perched at the edge of a loveseat opposite Max. Stared at the television. "They're…Persephone and…and Ted."

Max smiled to herself at the dissonance between the two. _Has to be a story there._ Meanwhile, she steered the TV toward the local affiliate carrying Chloe's first appearance.

Bumpers titled the show, named the hosts, showed their bright and colorful 'breakfast table' set, flashed through the morning's scheduled segments.

Max set the volume low. Audible, but not high enough to compete. Finally asked, "What do they have over you? It's not _your_ agenda. But as collected as you've been this morning, I'm having trouble believing you're way outside your comfort zone with this kind of spin-job. This isn't the first time."

Tanner didn't reply at once. Measured, finally said, "Everyone answers to someone. And no-one gets where they are, or stays there, completely under their own power." She looked away, seemed surprised at herself to have responded so plainly. Nothing further.

Max filled the void. "I kinda get that, but it's interesting…even after reading the nonsense you guys printed, which I presume you must have at some point, you don't seem to have any real idea _who it is you've picked a fight with."_

Patricia's eyes lifted at the last, stared daggers at Max across the coffee table. "It's usually men who throw that line, toward the end. What next? Name calling? Physical threats? Another block of clay with a detonator in my daughter's backpack?"

Max's eyes went wide, but she shouldn't have been surprised all the same. _Another thread for another time._ She held up her hand. "Sorry - I didn't mean it in the same way they might." Felt like time for de-escalation.

Patricia stared back, appeared uncertain as to how to respond. "I learned my lessons many times over. What is it you want, Miss Caulfield? I can't move you physically. I don't want you in my house for another moment. How can I compel you to leave?"

Above the small, ornate marble fireplace, on the mantle, a few scattered pictures fanned out. A family of three, including a baby. _The daughter._ In another photograph, the same unshaven man, a little older, this time alone in loose khakis, squinting against sunlight, holding a long-lensed camera at his shoulder like it was a rifle.

… _in another life._

Patricia followed her gaze.

"Husband? Partner?" Max asked, suspecting the answer.

Quiet for a minute, Patricia nodded. Reluctantly glanced at the photo, then away. "Yes. Steven was both to me. He was killed while on assignment, four years ago."

 _More daughters without fathers. Another Joyce. Another—_ Backing off, Max let out, "I'm sorry. Your little girl, she was young at the time."

"She doesn't remember him well. Look—"

Max softened, held up her hand. "I'm sorry." _Human. She's…human after all. Dammit. And not an insider._ "I _am_ sorry for barging in on you this morning Mrs. Tanner. I am. What you did to us was shitty, and you know it. I don't know how involved you were, or the depths behind your reasons, but we have that under control now."

Tanner looked like she wanted to say something but didn't interrupt.

Max continued, "All I'm interested in at this point is how it came together. Why. Under whose direction. That may help both of us if I read your situation correctly.

"And I'm also concerned about the safety of my friend, Juliet Watson, and your other writer who came out to see us. That morning, before your first editorial about us hit the stands, a team of armed mercenaries tried to murder Juliet on the street in front of her dorms. Now she and Portnoi are both missing."

Patricia's eyes darted, only for a second, before that same outward mask of control returned.

 _Striking a lot of nerves here. Fear, but not shock, exactly._

* * *

 **Emily** bolted upright, throwing the covers off, her heart racing yet again. Only this time, Mira was up beside her just as quick, eyes wide.

The TV blared music at top volume.

Jason, groggy and annoyed, prairie-dogged up from the floor. His hand blindly searched over the edge for a remote, scattering plastic wrappers to the floor. "Not funny, you guys."

The hair on the back of Em's neck stood up at the image on the screen. A rotating, helicopter-eye view of a building, massive, with a barrel shape at the center and three long, fat spokes radiating outward into a green office campus the size of multiple city blocks.

Jason joined, rubbed his eye, slack-jawed.

A volume bar spread across the bottom of the screen dropped from 100% down to 20%. Mira, remote in hand, said, "I've seen this shape so many times, but never—"

Eyes transfixed on the screen, Emily muttered, "Yeah. Me too. But—"

"Me three," stumbled Jason.

The video of the building retreated to an inset square between two impossibly attractive hosts seated together at a table. A busy city street scene streamed through the windows behind them.

The first host beamed, _"Good morning, Janie! And good day to you out there, nation. How is everyone? Don't answer out loud; we can't hear you. Heh-heh-heh."_

" _Hehe. Good morning Bill. And thanks for that fourth-wall-breaking reminder - what's on our breakfast plate today?"_ The woman opposite tilted her head, smiled at the camera, eyes bright.

The man with perfect hair replied through nearly perfect teeth in a nearly perfect jaw, _"Well, Janie, we have a bit of an exclusive on our hands this morning."_

" _Oh? What's in store?"_ Hair flip.

" _We'll begin the program by catching up with one of 2015's fastest rising business superstars, Miss Chloe Price. She's the co-founder of embattled tech giant MCCP, joining us live from Las Vegas, Nevada—"_

" _That's a state out west, right, Bill?"_

He laughed. _"Indeed, it is, Janie. Quite a few of our viewers call it home. After that, we've got the author of the new Times bestseller "My Emptiness, Me, and All of You, Together." And later in our broadcast, we'll check in with the hometown heroes behind that amazing kitten rescue video making the rounds online…"_

Mira scrunched her brow at the TV. "Price? MCCC-something? Who are they, and why—"

"I don't know, let's listen."

 _Who is she? Why is the TV even_ _ **on**_ _? And why is that shape…?_

Jason pulled himself up, sat on the bed. "You guys didn't turn the screen on, did you?"

Emily and Mira looked at each other, shook their heads.

"You've both drawn it too, right?" Emily gestured toward the campus video.

Nods.

"What does it all mean?"

Silence.

In the background, _"…well, let's jump right in! Miss Price? Can you hear us out West?"_

* * *

 **Chloe** debated editing some of the introductory content scrolling up on their teleprompters.

' _Embattled' is a little strong. So is your tie and fake-orange tan, Bill._ Chloe's thoughts carried over virtual comms to a conference room back at HQ.

" _Chloe - no. Come on. They're friendlies, and their producer is doing me a huge personal favor. Please don't play with them,"_ admonished the vaguely annoying miniature Jillian sitting in the 'angel' position on Chloe's virtual shoulder.

A miniature Chloe sat in the devil position on Chloe's other shoulder. Snickering.

Back in Jillian's ops-center conference room, a group of her folks ringed a long table, surrounded by various feeds from Chloe, the studio, and all major domestic network broadcast views.

The perfectly composed Chloe on camera didn't acknowledge or reflect any of her inner dialogs or their background shenanigans. That was all inside-voice.

Chloe's concession to business casual was a blue, oversized men's suit-coat over a faded grey NASA t-shirt. Half the team wanted to dress her up, the other half to dress her down. Compromises.

"Thank you for joining us this morning, Miss Price. I understand—"

"Please, let's not be too formal. 'Chloe' is fine. And thank you for having me on, Bill, Janie."

"Indeed. Now, if I'm not mistaken, this is your first time visiting us on our show, is that..."

Chloe made a quick tweak to isolate and filter the multi-part audio lag between her real-time spy-feeds of the NYC studio, the relayed hosts' voices in her ear, and the echoes caused by the seven-second broadcast delay. Plus, the further speed-of-light loops to broadcast audio from Max's open mic in New York and by Jillian's team closer to home. Redistributed. Real-time was less distracting for everyone.

 _Here we go._

Q&A itself was a simple game. By Chloe's mental math the previous night, there were 26 letters in the western alphabet. Anywhere between 200,000 and 2-million unique words in the English language, depending on the preferred definition of 'word.' Only 10,000 of which were in daily use by most people. Only so many sequential combinations of those words that fit together by accepted grammatical rules to form coherent sentences. Only so many combinations of those sentences that could be structured as interrogatives. A limited subset of which they could possibly ask her, statistically smeared across everything they'd ever asked anyone, ever, filtered through the context of the current news crisis.

By her reckoning, it came down to seven questions likely to come up organically in each interview, with one of four varieties of follow-on question for each answer she gave. And twenty-nine additional unique questions possible, falling to various percentages based on individual style, network bias or bent among the three sets of hosts scheduled. Provided the hosts didn't take things into the weeds. Off-script would default her back to real-time remixing.

Jillian and her team had worked with Chloe to adapt their messaging frameworks to her expected range of questions, planted triggers for follow-on questions they wanted to engineer, then ran some live-fire playback drills and coaching to help her lead the interview to the outcome they wanted on camera. She had prior experience under her belt with phone and text interviews with the science types, but live, mainstream TV had unique mechanical peculiarities, in addition to the psychological and interpersonal ones. The practice had helped her feel marginally more comfortable at least.

She smiled, looked straight into the camera.

She took a second to remind herself of their mission, of all the concerned, hardworking people she was there to represent. The corner they _needed_ to turn in this first interview, the one they had the best chance of controlling.

She put on her best 'Polished-Chloe' act and jumped in. "That's right, Bill. We're still a young, private company, and we tend to keep our heads down. But I think this recent kerfuffle has brought home one disadvantage of that approach. I'm sorry to say that we're probably victims of our default of 'media disengagement,' which has left gaps for confusion, speculation and even outright falsehoods."

For those watching the broadcast, the view flipped between her seated hosts, a full-frame of Chloe, and an inset window between Bill and Janie, placing all three of them on the same screen.

Bill, smiling conspiratorially, "This is your first public response to the many allegations, right here on our show, folks - so you're suggesting that the Journal may have reported actual _falsehoods?"_

Chloe leaned forward another six degrees, nodded lightly. "Yes. To be clear, our position is that they've printed intentional fabrications, including the entirety of the interview with my co-founder, Max Caulfield. That's correct. For the record, we've filed multiple libel lawsuits against the Journal's operations here in the US, as well as in the United Kingdom. While we aren't asking for monetary damages, we would like a formal apology and complete retraction to the various false statements they've printed about us this last week. A lot of the copy-paste reporting quickly redistributed their claims uncritically, owing largely to their fine reputation. Which has now damaged ours."

Janie leaned forward too, gripping her coffee mug. "Is that a warning for others who would continue to repeat those same allegations?" She laughed. "Should we take this opportunity to clear things up, right here, on the record?"

Bill nodded amiably, leaning back.

Chloe smiled sweetly. "Yes - we'd very much like an opportunity. But I think we'd appreciate more frequent engagement outside of manufactured crisis', once this is all behind us."

A voice from her virtual shoulder intruded. Jillian. _"Nice, touch, Chloe. Giving them a carrot. But pull back on the sweetness. Humble, but back straight; we're firmly in the right. High road. Keep it at that level. You're on-message but remember your transitions and concluding statements need to lead them naturally along our route-map to our best follow-ons."_

Chloe rolled her inner eyes. _Yes, sensei. Promise I'll trip all the right flags, right up to the reveal._

A few quiet snickers at Chloe's remark around the table, silenced mid-way by Jillian's all-business glare.

On the monitor, Bill set down his cup, folded his hands. "So many allegations have been leveled at MCCP over the last week, where should we even begin?"

Chloe chuckled. "Yes, it's been a fairly well-orchestrated kitchen sink. Not everyone is a fan of our work, apparently."

Janie chimed in, "Let's start at the beginning. Is MCCP a dangerous cult? Are you, Chloe Price, nothing more than a charismatic cult leader selling the world modern-day snake oil?"

 _Aww. Guys! She called me charismatic!_

Jillian ignored her. _"Conclude first. Sound-bites. Clear and short."_

Chloe chuckled, shook her head. "No, Janie, we're not a cult. We're a business. We have regular employees all over the world, a P&L we have to manage, and everyone goes home at the end of their days, just like everywhere else."

"How do you suppose that 'cult' meme began? Do you have insights?"

Chloe, projecting earnestness, "That's something our litigation seeks to uncover. We were all completely stunned to read the Journal's outlandish claims about us."

"We've so rarely gotten a look - can you share with us, in your own words then - what is the real MCCP?"

 _Well, Janie, thank you for that telegraphed soft-ball question - we're a bunch of super-weirdo smarty-pants fighting an entrenched global conspiracy of stupidness, and we're hell-bent on kicking the end of the world straight in the balls as_ _ **hard**_ _as we possibly can. While hopefully looking cute—_

Inner-shoulder-voice, " _Chloe._ "

 _Sorry. Playing. Nervous, I guess? I know…less 'my words,' more 'try to sound like Max' on this one._

" _That's not what I meant, Chloe,"_ surrendered Jillian. _"Share your voice, but keep the end we want in mind."_

 _K._

Chloe smiled for the TV camera, and Jillian. "What is MCCP? We're easy, guys. We're trying to do some good in the world. Leave it better than we found it. In a lot of different ways. That's it. It's the kind of mission that attracts enthusiastic volunteers. And in joining us, many of them found each other for the first time. That's the hidden secret of MCCP, and our real magic, I think. Those connections between concerned and talented people around hard, unsolved problems that affect everyone."

The first echoes of Max's real conversation with the Journal. _What's true stays true._

Jillian, holding her breath, _"That's it, Chloe. Called bullshit - now it's time to elevate - give the viewers an alternative to talk about. Set it up. This is the first time a mainstream global audience is hearing from either of you on TV like this - what truth do you want them to believe? What do_ _ **you**_ _believe?"_

Chloe accelerated her mind a few thousand times, slowing the world around her to a practical standstill. Felt a deeper appreciation for Max's conversational time-dancing.

Replayed the feed so far. Checked her pacing.

 _No pressure._

 _What do_ _ **I**_ _believe?_

 _What's the takeaway?_

She knew the flow. But delivering answers, or even surprises, wasn't enough on camera; wasn't the level of _persuasion_ Jillian was pushing for. Chloe had to go beyond that. She somehow had to make a personal, emotional connection with countless people she couldn't even see. Wouldn't ever meet. It wasn't something she could fake and still have it fly.

All those people watching - weren't they the same people everyone was fighting so hard for? _Talk to them, not the hosts._

There was something she could aim for. Jillian called it 'competent passion.' More emotionally delivered than purely rational facts, but not to the level of wide-eyed fervor that would resonate with the cult claims they were fighting. A touch of humor. A bit of humility. Humanity. Comfortable confidence.

Chloe played with extremes to lighten up the room the night before, but in truth, it took some doing to hit the right mark. She had to bring herself to that place again. It wasn't acting, so much as compensation for the specific off-putting weirdness of the studio environment. They added up to an imposition of remove, of distance. Those impersonal concentric rings of nested lenses under hot lights against an otherwise black background, the time delayed questions in her ear.

 _Should have been doing this while I was waiting. Shit._

Second hand wouldn't move until she let it. She had time. Peeled back the layers.

Replayed the last night she closely watched an hour of global news. Stories of refugees in hard lands. Warfare. Disease outbreaks. Flames of political riots in the streets overseas. Another school shooting nearer to home.

Reflected on shipping containers ferrying human beings as objects for sale. People to be owned. Trails of sadness and despair from start to finish. Not _all_ finishes. Watched again as her angel, Max, led the first by her hand to safety.

Peeled back the layers, allowed herself to feel what her other selves had felt, the events and terrors of the most recent sideways branch. The details, repeated over and over. Horrors since erased from existence.

And finally, she focused on a future lived by another Chloe in another timeline. Accompanied by their shared person. Their bright light against darkness.

She added up the horrifying scope of ongoing, mundane human tragedies. Some carried the fingerprints of their adversaries. Small patterns. Large. But others were more symptomatic of lost people trapped in a variety of unfavorable architectures. Trapped in fear. Living without hope. Without the tools or power or mobility to find their way to something better.

Every incident, every event, every situation, touched at least one person deeply, irrevocably. Others around them. Those were the ones she was fighting for. They were the ones _out there._ Beyond the cameras. She was on their side. They were the whole reason.

 _What do I believe?_

 _Fuck 'believe' - we shouldn't be necessary. Shit could have been solved without any superpowers at all, if only you all hadn't allowed yourselves to be pulled so far from each other._

 _What is MCCP?_

 _What's our truth?_

 _There's only truth._

Back to real-time. She looked away, knitted her brow, returned her gaze forward. Called up the faces of countless people she'd met, more she'd never meet. A flutter of her lashes. An extra glisten across her eyes that could only come from feeling it deeply, immediately.

This time, she looked through the camera, locked eyes with her hosts on the other side. Continued without missing a beat, "We're fiercely loyal to this idea we've built. This…place. Our people, and everyone _they're_ trying to help. Because it's not underselling it to say that together, in a span of a couple years, their work has already made progress against some of the most basic and persistent root causes of human struggle.

"Our shared history _is_ the story of how universal and intractable these issues have _always_ been for us. From individuals to societies, we're driven by these basics we all want and need. Health, comfort, and safety. Freedom from fear, coercion, and violence. The need for food, water, shelter. Desire for an environment that supports voluntary connections between people. Love. Dignity. Respect. Recognition. A society that provides room for curiosity, and reason and means for everyone to dream, pursue and become something even more amazing than we are."

Chloe slowed to a stop. Left a space of a few beats.

Janie, showing surprise at the direction of Chloe's response, "That's…an impossibly tall order for any one company, isn't it?"

"It's been too tall for any one- _anything_ so far. Despite all the power ever given by the many to the few, it's never been solved." Chloe shrugged, voice light, hopeful. "But for the first time, we're at the brink of technologies that subvert all of that - to give us a chance of ending scarcity for good. For everyone. Of Food. Water. Shelter. Wealth.

"Our first target was cheap, unlimited energy, so we all put our heads down - and now we've solved fusion in ten different ways. It's done. City-scale installations are live and running. Licensed micro-reactors roll out in partner's vehicles and consumer products this year. That's not the only thing we've been working on."

Bill and Janie looked at each other. Behind the scenes, network chatter ramped at the sudden revelation that they were apparently well beyond the stage of speculative licensing of preliminary designs and theory. _It's real._ Casually delivered, as though it were an impassioned slip of the tongue. As Max had accidentally done while rebutting Elliot Portnoi's obnoxious outbursts.

Chloe smiled imperceptibly. "So, while it hasn't made us universally popular with investment portfolios more dependent on short-term thinking, it's only natural that our folks are excited and a little proud to see early signs of progress from our efforts. So, yes, we're shooting for the impossible, and hopeful for our future. Why not? That belief in people doesn't make us a cult.

"Inside MCCP, we're already rowing in the same direction. So, there's no _need_ for coercion or tricks to bring our people along. We don't have any _secret hierarchies or networks,_ and there's nothing nefarious going on inside our company. While not everything about us is visible to the public yet, _everything_ we do is to serve it _. Everything._ "

She stopped there. Could almost feel the energy shift behind the scenes.

 _Lesson #2. Know when to stop talking._

After an awkward pause and recovery, no doubt exacerbated by the chatter in their earpieces, her hosts quickly asked a couple of anticipated follow-up questions about the nature and timing of rolling out working fusion reactors for everyday public use. Chloe gave them short, pointed answers, with concrete dates and brands to make it fully real.

Open exchange, after-hours, and pre-market trading volumes skyrocketed as financial markets raced to adjust.

It was an acceleration of their original timeline, and they'd need to commit extra effort to help partners ramp production this year, but fuck it, they'll all be thrilled. Bad guys fired the first shots. Max had accidentally leaked it so subtly, they might not have even noticed. Jillian spotted it. Chloe ran with it.

Toward the end of their time, Bill threw out their final topic. The obvious closer. "Chloe, what about the darling little girl, Alena? Can you tell us what happened there? One minute she's held up to the nation and lauded as a hero, the next, decried as a victim of sophisticated brainwashing…"

Chloe had a special place in her heart for Alena. "Well, to be fair, Bill, the press have been the ones to make both of those claims. She's the daughter of one of our employees, and our only position until now has been that her privacy is respected. She's a sweet, funny, courageous girl. But the truth of her actions…what didn't come across in the now-famous video clip, was _who_ she acted to protect that night. An unfortunate accident of camera placement, into which people have projected other agendas."

"Speculation has been that she was protecting you. It's a cornerstone of the 'cult' brainwashing claims. _Who was it then?"_

Chloe nodded. "Something we all understand. She used her body, her life, as a shield to protect her _father,_ who she loves very much. He was the first hit by the hail of gunfire that night and tragically collapsed. Alena stood her ground, arms out, between more bullets and her dad. It was a desperate reflex of love and hope over fear. And ultimately, one that touched the gunmen, halting their fire and undoubtedly saving others' lives as well."

Bill and Janie exchanged glances. "It was her father all along? Is he…alright? We've all seen video of him waving reporters away from their apartment, but this is the first we've heard about his involvement in the incident."

Chloe shared a genuine smile. "His suit was dark, so he wasn't visible in the video. Alena's been upset about everything people have been saying, so she and her father allowed me to share more detail with here with you today. Her father's made a full recovery. They're both doing great. It turns out his injuries were a painful shock at the time, but not ultimately life-threatening. And she's simply happy her dad's okay."

Chloe felt a brief internal pang.

Both hosts sat back. Bill added, "Thank goodness. Wow. We'd…we'd _love_ to have them on the show…"

* * *

 **Jillian** watched as the aggregate online sentiment meter floating over the conference table tipped further into the green. The volume of mentions had expanded several times since morning. It was a brief pulse of the preponderance of online conversation, compiled from real-time measurements by a variety of outside service providers, as well as their in-house tools.

Green was good, red was bad. Typical of such instrumentation.

 _Green is good._

A few early headlines and social snippets scrolled through the air, giving a representative flavor for the commentary, pro and con. Confusion mixed with open excitement mixed with extreme cynicism. The ratio between them hovered at 50:35:15. Global markets were entering the early stages of turmoil, adding flavor to the news and commentary.

Jillian waved her arm, opening the side-wall of the conference room. Beyond, most of her troops were at their desks or workstations, heads-down, monitoring, absorbing, responding to the early wave of newly surging inquiries from global press, analysts, as the online world exploded after the first interview.

Once Chloe wrapped the final appearance, the remaining work would be done from here, behind the scenes. Much was already in motion.

Quick 'crisis management' scrums with partner company execs and their pr teams around this inadvertent 'leak' of the impending public rollout of fusion power. They passed along pre-baked plans, talking points, etc., to the largest partners already.

Separately, they were talking with journalists, bloggers, influencers. Persuading, framing conversations. Producing and distributing new infographics, videos. Coaching and connecting a bureau of outside third-party subject-matter experts who could credibly confirm or refute the minutiae among the noisy output of thousands of covering journalists and 24-hour news channels. 'Objective' experts who couldn't be pressed on topics outside their lane, or about MCCP in general.

Then, feeding back the best results into their official social channels for signal amplification. Let the crowd take it from there. Company ethos wouldn't allow covert manipulation of news or social dialog. It was a convenience that forbade the use of social sock-puppets, hacks, algorithmic manipulations, or a host of other underhanded tactics that were in obvious militarized use by those working against them.

Those kinds of distasteful behaviors were initially cultivated and refined in political and stock short-seller spheres, but they'd crept into corporate use over the last decade or two, as political consultants turned their eyes toward large, untapped piles of cash.

Communities could sometimes spot the obvious fakes in their midst, but the practice continued to grow more subtle and sophisticated - enough to be a real problem one day soon. According to Max and Chloe, geopolitical manipulation by nation-states was the next wave at the horizon. It was still early days for social and media manipulation - at least if their last timeline remained an accurate guide.

It put MCCP at a tactical disadvantage to be on the receiving end of well-organized information warfare, but that trade was acceptable to Jillian in practice if it kept them on the proper side of their moral lines.

She still believed that taking a correct path would lead to a correct place, even if the trials along the way seemed unfair. It's why she was at MCCP. Why there was nowhere else she could go that would offer a more meaningful role.

Presently, hers was to ensure they armed organic defenders with the ammo needed to engage in these community debates on their behalf. Chloe was off to a good start. MCCP would take the high road, chasing from above the noise, until they gathered the momentum to get ahead of it all and reclaim their narrative agenda. They'd have to work for a few weeks to turn that corner if they weren't blindsided by new bombshells. Plans allowed for a few. Then, onto a re-refresh of Jillian's long-term program for the company.

Turning back once more, she allowed herself a brief moment of satisfaction. Late nights paid off. She broke the silence. "Congratulations, Chloe. You did well."

Chloe responded over the background roar of an engine, "Let's not count chickens. Two to go."

"Hmm. You're right. But it helps that you appear to have nailed the first one."

"Surprised?" A chuckle.

"Not at all." Jillian smiled to herself.

"Thanks. I roll up to the next studio in like four minutes. Try not to disappoint."

"Just be yourself, Chloe. You won't."

* * *

 **Ariel** scanned the muffin display as she waited in line to order her going-to-work latte. Saw a plump blueberry one with her name on it, beaming out a shiny rainbow-halo and confident, happy sparkles. There may or may not have been an angelic choir that only she could hear warming up in the background.

 _Carbs. Mmmm._

She leaned against the rail. Comfortable. She could be asleep again in minutes.

Her phone buzzed. Internal message.

 _Hector: thanks ishii_

 _Wut? Huh?_

 _Ariel: ?_

 _HN: you designed the op template that saved my sister every loop that followed. owe you 50._

She might have read something about that. Stayed late to go over as much as she could the night before, but barely grasped the outlines of what happened in the alt branch from the handful of reports she was able to finish. It would take years for any one person to understand that way. She key-searched her name before heading home to bed; skimming that index alone delayed her departure another hour.

Everyone was working way beyond. Whole thing felt abstract in the reading. She dashed out a light reply.

 _AI: Np. What kind of drinking buddy would I be if I let your little sister get hurt? And thanks for saving my life twice, I think?_

 _HN: 3x. beers? wings?_

 _AI: no_

 _HN: instant? Harsh._

 _AI: It's early morning. And quick enough that you knew before you asked._

She smiled.

 _HN: still asked. Open to being surprised._

Her line moved forward. She cringed at how open she'd been in Tokyo. Did it again.

 _AI: besides, every time we have drinks you pull some old dark trauma or war story out of me. Its embarrassing._

 _HN: we had drinks once. that's not how the empath thing works_

 _AI: …_

 _HN: delaying your replies by five seconds. Decent hack._

She laughed to herself.

 _AI: You like that?_

 _AI: Fine. Wings._

 _AI: And_ _ **beer**_ _, not beers._

 _AI: After work. 18:30. Lobby. Not a minute late._

 _AI: And you're buying._

 _HN: its a date_

 _AI:_ _ **not**_ _a date_

 _HN: didn't say it was_

It was her turn at the counter. _It's not a date._ She ordered her usual drink from the barista, then pointed to the glorious muffin of morning salivation. Salvation? Moved to the other counter to wait for her latte.

 _AI: it's not a date!_

 _HN: Dude. XD_

Felt her cheeks flush. Tucked her chin into her coat collar, closed her eyes and shook her head. Under her breath, "Baka."

* * *

 **Max** knocked lightly on the weathered door below the rising stairs. 131st Street, Harlem, NYC. A faded clay pot with a winter-bare shrub chilled to one side of the door. The brownstone towered another three floors above the below-ground entrance to the first.

An old man carrying grocery bags shuffled along the sidewalk above. Stopped.

She smiled a 'hello.'

He gazed down at her with milky eyes for too long. Shuffled on.

No sounds from inside. The shaded route from the gate at the sidewalk to the front door had been swept clean of snow. She waited.

Before Max left Rye, Patricia Tanner haltingly, obliquely, painted her a picture. Ghost-writers who showed up in her office with finished copy in hand. A quick call from the COO of the multinational holding company that owned a majority stake in the paper, directing her in vague terms to allow whatever the small group of 'freelance consultants' requested. No reasons given, and Tanner didn't ask.

It wasn't the first time, but it was one of only a few so blatant. Everything arm's length. Most everyone unknown or sheltered by deniability. Unspoken horse trading. Although Tanner was the one left behind to face the skeptical inquiries her editorial staff's inner-circle, she later discovered that legal and others were somehow independently on the same page with her.

She might only have been a willing tool, but she was an observant and perceptive one.

It was what she shared afterward that that grabbed Max. That controversy was sometimes enough to be the end goal; something unproven, but that would forever stain a name. That Chloe's efforts wouldn't make a difference. _"But if you're important, and I suspect you might be, they'll keep after you from every direction until you can't function."_ She'd said not to think of it as an attack from the press, but to see that as the necessary opening shot of a broad-spectrum effort to disassemble and shut them down. She'd watched it happen once or twice before. _"Sorry, kiddo. Even if you're a genuine saint, it's already too late for you to come out of this clean."_

As Max was leaving her, Patricia repeated that she'd deny everything to the end. Without further corroborating evidence, it was hardly the smoking gun they'd need for public exposure of the lies, or to slam-dunk their lawsuits to conclusion. Of course, her NYC team had recordings of their meeting now, but those carried the same problems as her original interview with Juliet. MCCP had the technological prowess to manufacture perfect fakes. Which made everything suspect, real or not, if someone chose to counter with that assertion. Tanner saw the hardware in her ear, after all.

But securing that level of smoking gun wasn't Max's intention. The NYC team was off and running at the first mention of the COO who made the call. Coordinating with the local Brussels teams. Updating HQ. Wheels up. Mission on.

Back in her present, a familiar voice intruded. "We've got movement toward the front, but there's some level interference."

Max looked back to the sky above. "Thanks. It's okay. You guys can back off for a while. Grab yourselves some breakfast or something? Please?"

"Copy that."

She knew they wouldn't. But maybe they'd feel comfortable enough to refill their coffees or whatever while their drone went looking for a better angle.

Chloe was already en route to her next interview. First one seemed like it went to plan. Max would catch up on the others later, once she was back and had a chance to debrief on her day. Tanner believed what she was saying, but that didn't mean her cynical predictions would come to pass. She didn't know enough about them to understand why the same rules wouldn't apply.

Max felt a change, like someone watching. Faced the door again.

A light flickered at the peep-hole. After a delay, a latch scraped, then another, and the door creaked open a couple inches. A young Black woman peered out at Max from under a pink bear-hood, complete with giant rounded ears. "Hmm?" Opened the door the rest of the way. "You come all this way yourself."

 _Note to self: Fuzzy bear-onesie-hoodie-pajamas? With feet?! Want._

"Uh, Alex?" Max smiled. "wait…you know who I am?"

Alex rubbed her eyes. Yawned. "Yup. Figured someone from y'all would come by eventually, but…she did say you were friends before."

"Jules?"

Alex stamped her feet up and down, arms around herself. "Yeah. Come on. Shit's cold."

Max followed Alex into a warm flat that smelled like something delicious baking. A partially disassembled prosthetic robot arm occupied one end of the dining table, alongside a range of technical-looking tools and wired-up tablet. The antique decor, the decades-wide span of multi-generational photos on display, hinted that Alex shared this space with an older relative.

Alex closed and latched the door. Appraised Max one more time. "Anybody ever tell you, you don't _look_ like an alien? You eat people food, right?"

She almost sounded disappointed.

Max laughed at the unexpected greeting. "Uh. Thanks?"

"Kitchen's this way. Reheat something for us. Weird goings-on. I'll tell you what I know over breakfast, and I pray it's enough to help if she's in trouble. But…saying upfront, I don't know where Juliet or that drive of yours got off to."

Max, followed Alex, puzzled, "Drive?"

* * *

 **Juliet** zoned, unconsciously absorbed by the snowy field between abandoned historical residences outside. Some kind of big, dark bird picked at an exposed bit of brush. Its movements in greyscale felt somehow macabre.

Like her morning dreams, she couldn't look away.

Going through only the most basic motions.

Dressed.

Heater on.

Coffee brewing.

The bird lifted its head, took to the air.

 _Sick of this._

As though hearing her thoughts, the phone vibrated across the kitchen table. She turned from the window. New text. Ian. Directing her to turn on the television, tune it to 7. She did as she was asked, dropped to the sofa, phone in hand.

It was an old tube TV, and the over the air reception wasn't perfect. But the picture was clear enough to recognize her.

 _Chloe?_

* * *

 **Chloe** was half-right. It was the third interview that left the rails.

It started with a last-instant host swap - from the morning fluff-crew to a hardline nighttime investigative network anchor. With that, the format also shifted from a one-on-one interview to a special news edition with a six-guest panel, including a 'science expert,' a senior congressman from Illinois, and a self-proclaimed 'child psychologist and deprogramming expert.' Among others. And their graphics team upped the ante with more inflammatory bumper-text, audio, and backgrounds.

None of this was made visible to Chloe, waiting in her studio chair.

 _As if._

The change alone wasn't reason to pull the ripcord. She expected it sooner. Even if she hoped it might go smoother.

Max could always cut reality after the second interview if the third became legitimately damaging. But Chloe couldn't pass up this opportunity to do a little investigation on live TV.

Part of her _wanted_ a fight.

If she was honest with herself, she was still furious at the path They'd chosen to inflict on everyone in the alternate branch. She suppressed her feelings to focus on moving this branch forward, but there were too many layers of memory to smile it away completely. Never-mind the massive inconvenience they sought to create here.

She'd reminded Max that the bad guys were less united in this branch after the 'out' she offered them, and to cut them some slack as she reacclimatized - but someone in this timeline plucked at these particular strings.

By all indications, the bad guys still didn't know about Chloe. Thought her a clever hacker maybe. An infrequent public face of the commercial front of their real enemy - but otherwise dismissed as a snarky ride-along companion to Max.

No threat on her own.

No match.

Normal.

 _Even_ _ **if**_ _that were true, they_ _ **know**_ _we can erase it. What's their fucking point? Why bother with an ambush? Cornered? Minions keeping up appearances? No other choice with chickenshit peers or overlords watching or threatening or whatever? Or does some part of them have to move forward either way? Like a train wreck in slow-mo, running out stored momentum?_

 _Max gave all of you a way out._

 _Protection, even._

 _You can't win._

 _So why? Why do you idiots persist?_

 _Just…you know…fuck you guys, man._

If anyone in Jillian's section overheard Chloe's inner voice, they didn't make a sound.

Chloe accelerated.

Seeded self-expanding dossiers on the new network host, all six panelists. Synced up with the ops team at HQ, already following the communications trail from the program-change-decision backward.

If they were after a televised battle of wits, they'd find themselves embarrassingly disarmed.


End file.
